Persuasion
by EvilBad
Summary: Isabela and Marian Hawke are an established couple who set out to seduce Fenris into a threesome. It turns out to be more complicated than they imagined. Eventual F!Hawke/Isabela/Fenris relationship.
1. Chapter 1

At first it was just talk.

Isabela had coaxed it out of her, right in the middle of their lovemaking, in her room at the Hanged Man. This time she had come on to Hawke during a game of Wicked Grace. There they were, surrounded by their friends and right when she had a winning hand, and there was the Pirate's hand on her thigh, dipping under her trousers beneath the table.

Marian had never had much of a face for cards. She didn't last out the hand. She had to fold with a four-card match, blast it all, but it was that or bend Isabela over the table right there. Not that the temptress would mind a public ravaging, of course, but Hawke, at least, had some notions of privacy. She threw down her cards and grabbed the Rivaini's arm and dragged her down the hall.

It was there in the pirate's bed, well after all of their clothes had been discarded, that Isabela reminded her of their friends downstairs.

"Seems a shame to leave them out of this," she purred. "They don't know what they're missing." By then the Rivanni's hand had completely disappeared between Marian's legs.

Hawke arched off the bed, every muscle in her body straining at once. She had never had more than three fingers inside her before, hadn't known she could hold even more.

"Ah, you are so sweet, pet. You like that, hmm?"

She nodded emphatically. Yes yes yes yes yes.

Isabela eased herself down alongside her, putting her magnificent breasts within reach, letting her dip her head down to capture her mouth in a kiss.

Isabela had already had Hawke's head between her own quivering thighs; now she was returning the favor. She knew very well how to make her lover come and she was steadfastly refusing to do it until she had driven her thoroughly mad first.

Marian groaned and threw her head back again, her eyes squeezed shut, as Isabela slowly opened her hand and closed it. "Dear maker..." she breathed out.

"You've not had a man," Isabela asked, "have you?"

Eyes still shut, Marian whispered no.

"Who would you have? If you could choose anyone?"

"Please, Bela..."

"Who would it be? Someone downstairs?"

Isabela swatted her hands away from her own snatch. No getting off until she was finished with her.

Heavy-lidded, Marian's beautiful eyes pleaded with the Rivani. "Bela.."

"Who?" she demanded, grinning. Again she opened her hand deep inside her lover and made her buck desperately off of the bed, before bringing her still again.

"The dwarf? No, not Varric. You would like them taller than you, I think."

Hawke was nearly biting her lip through in frustration.

"Anders? I hear he's very skilled. I'd like to sample that one myself, sometime. That patrician nose, I'd love to see it buried between my legs. Wouldn't you?"

Hawke whimpered, moving her hips back and forth to feel the friction of her hand within her.

"Fenris? He's a handsome one. And you know what they say about men with big swords..."

Something in Hawke's face gave her away.

"Ooh, it IS Fenris, isn't it? You want to bed the elf!"

Hawke gasped as Isabela coupled the movements of her missing hand with a tweaking pinch from her other at the very tip of her nipple.

"I would do such things to that elf." Isabela's voice dropped into a low growl. "I'd have him every way possible."

Marian's breathing was growing even more labored, as Isabela's long nails scraped around her breasts.

"I'd have him down my throat until he begged for mercy."

Marian was so close now.

"But I'd save him for you, kitten. I'd have him inside you just like this," she squeezed her hand again.

Isabela finally slid back and dipped her face down below Hawke's stomach.

"I wonder what he sounds like when he comes. He has that sexy voice. I bet you could make him scream, love. When he fucks you, I bet he'd be right out of his mind."

"Bela please I can't take anymore please..."

Finally Isabela brought her clever tongue to the spot that made Marian see stars and yelp so loud they probably heard her downstairs.

On the crest of her orgasm, riding out the waves, Isabela watched Marian writhe and noted how much longer her moans went on this time, how many more times she strained against her.

It was giving her a truly marvelous idea.

* * *

Isabela had to propose it to her three more times, over the course of a week, before Hawke really realized that she was serious.

She paused in the middle of stripping off her leathers, thunderstruck, with Isabela watching appreciatively from Hawke's giant four-poster bed. They weren't even fooling around yet, and she wasn't saying it just to tease Marian. The pirate actually meant it.

"Seriously? You want to invite Fenris to bed? With both of us?"

Isabela rolled over on her back, turning Marian upside down in her view. Always a good viewpoint. "As I keep saying, yes. Elf sandwich. Yum."

"But, Bela," Marian pointed out skeptically, "he practically crawls out of his skin whenever you touch him. And I can't even get that close."

"Only because you turn into a little schoolgirl around him."

Hawke rolled her eyes and peeled off her shirt. "Hardly."

"Oh Fenris, you're so funny."

"Shut up."

"Oh Fenris, come over to my estate, I found some wine in the cellar."

She threw her shirt at her. "Well, I did. He likes wine."

"Oh Fenris, come into the dark caves with me, we need your sword..."

"There are spiders in there! I hate spiders!"

The pirate sighed. "You just ruined my innuendo. I was going to go on with the 'exploring-our-caves' thing."

Marian made an exasperated noise and started to work at the binding around her breasts. Isabela flipped back onto her stomach and reached up to her. "Let me help with that."

"Nope. You're being ridiculous."

"Aw, kitten."

"And there's no way he would go for it. He's always angry with me for some reason or other, and he always avoids being next to you at Wicked Grace."

"That's just because I peek at his cards."

"I don't know if he even likes women. Or sex, for that matter. He's still working on the whole conversation thing, really." Hawke reached the end of the cloth that bound her breasts to her body and tossed it onto a chair. Isabela chewed her lip just looking at those lovely little breasts. She didn't understand why Hawke would keep them all tied up like that.

"But he watches, love. He watches."

"Watches for a knife in his back, maybe. He doesn't really trust any of us."

Isabela sat up, smirking. "You haven't seen it, then. He watches us. You and me. When he thinks I'm not looking, anyway."

"Watches what?" Marian quirked a single eyebrow.

Isabela cupped her own prominent breasts pointedly.

"Well, he could hardly miss *those*," Marian giggled, finally coming to kneel on the bed next to Isabela.

"And *this*", Isabela continued, bringing up her hands to squeeze Marian's heart-shaped arse. "He is an avid watcher of this, let me tell you. I've been catching him."

Marian was working at the laces on Isabela's shift. "I've never seen it," she said dubiously.

"Whenever you bend over, darling. Can't say I blame him, it is a magnificent arse. Truly one of the wonders of the world."

"Hmm. I might have to test that." Laces done, Marian peeled away the pesky material covering Isabela's dark nipples and licked her lips. How she loved Bela's tits, and burying her face between them.

"So anyway, I thought I should warn you before I extend the invitation."

Marian might have argued with her, but she was busy. Her fingers and palms and tongue were giving attention to every considerable inch of Isabela's remarkable chest. Once, Marian had gotten her off just by working on her breasts. She was hoping to repeat the trick.

"You *are* all right with the idea, pet?"

Marian disengaged her mouth for a moment. "Yes, but I know nothing's going to come of it."

"Nice choice of words. Ooooooh." Isabela melted as Marian brought her mouth back to the right nipple.

From there the conversation tilted entirely into long vowel sounds and mmmmms and there was nothing more to be said that evening, in words at least.


	2. Chapter 2

"You are some wicked, wicked women," Varric said.

Hawke was modeling for him the obscenely tight trousers which Isabela had picked out for her to wear during their little game. The dwarf couldn't help noticing the way the material clung to the curves of her buttocks. She was pretty stacked for a human woman.

"Poor Broody. He doesn't have a prayer."

Hawke made a face. "Stop, I feel guilty enough."

"Oh good. You won't be surprised, then, if you end up with a fist in your chest?"

"He's a little too uptight to come anywhere near enough for that. If anything, he's going to flee the scene and I'm going to die of embarrassment."

"Hey, if it makes him loosen up, you're doing all of us a favor."

She still looked apprehensive. "Do you suppose it's too late for me to back out?"

Just then Isabela stuck her head into Varric's suite. "He's here!" She chirped excitedly, and then disappeared again into the hall.

"Been nice knowing you," Hawke said, dropping to her knees.

Varric chuckled to himself as he walked down to the tavern proper. He did hope that Broody was going to take them up on their offer. It would surely do him some good. And, of course, it would make a great story.

The lanky elf was standing just inside the door, looking typically uneasy.

Isabela was perched on a barstool nearby, looking delicious as usual. She was wearing an impossibly low-cut shirt that revealed even more cleavage than usual, exposing a vast expanse of soft brown skin and the very top of an especially tight lacey corset.

She was openly flirting with him, and Fenris was resolutely not looking in her direction. So resolutely that it was clear he had noticed the pirate's remarkable new attire.

Varric took that indication as his cue. "All right Rivani, Elf, are you ready to go to work?"

Fenris glowered a little in return. "I have brought the shipment from the docks as you requested," he said, gesturing to the crates outside. "And I will be on my way."

"Not so fast, Broody. If you want to work off your debt to me, you've got a bit more work to do."

"I think hauling your belongings here more than works off my debt from last week's Wicked Grace, dwarf."

"Last week's match, maybe. But not for the week before that."

Fenris grunted his assent, reluctantly. He gestured to Isabela without looking at her. "But what is she doing here?"

"I live here, remember?" Isabela responded cheerfully, jumping up off her seat. The motion had a satisfying effect on her prominent cleavage. "And you're not the only one in debt to Varric. I think he only plays cards to have us on the hook for times like this."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Rivani. Now get to work." Varric aimed a smack at her bottom that was just a little bit harder than they had agreed upon. Hey, he might as well have a little fun, too. "Why don't you unload the cart, and Broody here can carry the crates up to my suite?"

Fenris sighed. "All right. Let's just get this done quickly."

"What's the hurry? You have some important sulking to do?"

The elf ignored him and went outside. Isabela and Varric exchanged a meaningful look.

"Good luck with that," Varric said. "I'll be at the bar if you need me."

"Take notes," Isabela advised him, grinning. "I'm just getting started."

It was a two-pronged attack. Isabela might have been a military commander in another life, had she chosen to use her powers for good.

As Fenris waited, she pulled the crates off the cart, and appeared to sort them into varying stacks. This required a lot of bending over. Suddenly noticing him there, she said: "Here, take this one."

She bent over to the one right at his feet, giving him a very good look down her shirt. One that he could not avoid when she was handing him a heavy crate to carry.

Then she sent him walking through the Hanged Man, up to Varric's rooms. Where Isabela knew just what he was going to find.

Hawke, on all fours, digging through an open crate, with her luscious arse pointed directly at him.

(A rotten move, really, but Isabela was not inclined to fight fair.)

And indeed, when she followed up the stairs behind him, she saw Fenris startle at the door to the suite and fumble his load, dropping Varric's crate of belongings smack onto the floor.

Hawke looked over her shoulder at him, without getting up. "Are you all right?" she asked innocently.

Isabela would have said she was laying it on a bit thick. But it clearly had the desired effect on their target, who was stammering something in reply that did not, so far as she could determine, contain actual words.

Fenris dropped to his knees to retrieve the crate, and froze there, staring at Hawke as though he had been ensorceled. In this position he had an even better view of Hawke's bottom, which by now he could see was revealed entirely by her tight trousers, from the tempting swell of her hips to the enticing cleft between her buttocks.

With her looking back at him, smiling, it was almost as though she were inviting him to take her from behind. An irresistible sight, as far as Isabela was concerned.

But Fenris seemed to shake himself and recover, averting his eyes deftly. "You are in debt to Varric as well?" he asked, a bit shakily, as he stood back up.

"Yep." (They certainly were now, Isabela marveled.) "I said I would sort his books for him. You can set that down over there."

Hawke pointed to an area that would require him to walk directly past her.

Ooh, Varric was right: they were wicked, wicked girls.

Isabela was so proud of her.

She dropped off her own crate right at the door and rushed out to the street, to be in position when Fenris returned.

They sent him back and forth between them for the rest of the afternoon. He would take a crate from Isabela, who gave him a jaunty grin and a flash of cleavage, and take it to Hawke, who he constantly found bent over in various configurations all around Varric's suite. If he had any suspicions that he was being set up, he gave no indication. In fact, he had nearly nothing to say by this point. Only his perpetual blush gave him away.

By the last crate, he had still not broken down and kissed either of them. Which was fine, Isabela reasoned. Fenris knew the two of them were intimate, and he was a gentleman at heart. She would just have to make a clear invitation.

"Last one," she announced unnecessarily, as she handed the final crate to him.

She followed him silently into the suite. He had gotten a lot less observant in the last few hours, Isabela noticed. Normally he would have growled at her to keep her distance.

Hawke was now up on a ladder, propped against Varric's tall bookshelf. She let him set down the last load, and then called him over. "Could you hand me that green volume?" she requested.

Fenris didn't even try to argue at this point. He hurriedly gathered up the book and brought it to her. She took it from him and stretched herself as high as she could go, placing the book at the very top - not coincidentally demonstrating her lithe, muscular form for him. Not coincidentally with her full hips and ass right at his eye level.

With Hawke's back turned, Fenris's face took on an expression of pure, naked lust that made Isabela chew her lip. Andraste's tits, she could not wait to get him under her.

Somehow he cleared the desire off his face in an instant, when Hawke turned back to him. Which made Isabela sweat a little bit more. Who knows what else he was hiding behind that glare? She was truly eager to find out.

"Come on, elf, I'll buy you a drink," she spoke up, startling him again. He backed away from both girls several steps.

"I need to go," he told her, far less resolutely than he had told her earlier.

Isabela linked her arm through his, and he didn't shrug her off. "Just one drink. Hawke will join us, won't you love?"

"In a few minutes," Hawke demurred, seemingly absorbed in Varric's books. "I just want to finish this row first."

"Come on." She lead him back into the tavern and settled him at a table in the corner. "I'll bring us some ale."

She brought rather a lot of ale, in fact. Just in case it was needed.

"A toast," she proposed, sliding into the seat directly beside him, rather than the one opposite.

"Certainly." Fenris obediently clinked his flagon against hers.

"To Hawke's incredible arse."

He choked on his mouthful of ale, sending Isabela into a fit of laughter.

"Come on now, I saw you looking."

"I apologize -" Fenris began to say.

"Don't!" she insisted. "Everyone should appreciate that arse properly. It's magnificent. Just makes you want to stand up and salute, doesn't it?"

A line settled into Fenris's brow, making him look quite guilty indeed. "That is not a respectful way to refer to a lady, and our leader," he said, a little sternness creeping back into his voice.

"Oh, it's all right. She doesn't mind. In fact, I think she enjoys you looking."

The elf clearly had no idea what to say to that, so he took a long swallow of ale.

"If you liked the view today, you should see her without her trousers. You could die a happy man."

Fenris rose from his seat abruptly. "This is.. inappropriate. I should go."

"Don't go," Isabela entreated him. "I haven't even gotten to our offer."

The elf's eyes were huge, she noted.

"Offer?"

He remained standing over her. That was fine by Isabela; she looked better at that angle.

"Come to bed with us. Both of us. I can promise a very, very good time."

Now he just looked skeptical, relaxing a little bit. "This is another one of your amusements, isn't it? You should not drag Hawke into your depraved fantasies, wench."

"Ooh, call me that again. That was delightful."

Fenris might have fled at that point, had Hawke not slid into the seat on the other side of the table.

"Is that mine?" she inquired, stealing Isabela's ale. "Did I hear my name? My ears are burning."

"Oh Hawke," Isabela purred before Fenris could come up with a way to change the subject. "We were just discussing your idea about taking Fenris here to bed with us."

Marian blushed furiously and looked down at the table. "Oh. That."

Fenris audibly gasped. He was clearly utterly flummoxed by the notion that Hawke, not Isabela, had proposed to invite him to their bed. His eyes actually started to dart around the room as he considered this revelation.

Meanwhile, Hawke slunk up next to him, shyly, and slid her hand up to his shoulder. "I just thought," she said softly, "well - you're very attractive, you know. Isabela and I would love to have you. If you wanted to."

She closed the space between them, subtly, and stared into his eyes, waiting for a reply.

For a minute there, Isabela was sure they had him.

But then it all turned around.

With a shaky breath, he pushed her away. Not roughly, but firmly. Then, backing the other way, he shook his head and repeated, "I need to go," for the sixth or seventh time that day, and rushed out of the room. Practically ran, in fact.

"Damn it," she cursed under her breath.

Hawke sank back down into the chair and put her head between her arms. "So much for that," she groaned. "Oh, this is going to be so awkward."

Varric, seated unobtrusively at the bar where he had been watching the action, threw up his arms and shouted to them. Though they could not hear him in the crowded tavern, clearly he was saying, "What the hell happened? You had him! What went wrong?"

Isabela's arms crossed in front of her practically of their own accord.

"We're not through yet, kitten," she insisted resolutely. "That was just Phase One."


	3. Chapter 3

Hawke wondered whether her lover might lose enthusiasm for the prospect of seducing Fenris after the fiasco at the Hanged Man, but that wasn't the case.

Isabela was only a little disappointed that her first plan had failed. After all, seduction was in many ways most of the fun. She was not opposed to dragging it out. If there wouldn't be a decisive early victory, it would be a long and enjoyable campaign.

"You didn't see his face, kitten," she reassured Hawke the next day, as they were strolling through the Hightown market. "When you were up on that ladder, you should have seen him. He was dying to touch you. Maybe if I hadn't brought him into the tavern with all those people around, he would have."

"You were right about the staring," Marian admitted. "I could feel him looking at me."

"And?"

"If it were possible to tear off my clothes with his eyes, then I would have been naked. I know it."

It was terribly exciting, in fact. When he came to hand her the book, she could feel him standing just behind her, and she paused a few extra seconds just to make him wait before she turned around. The power of that move was intoxicating. Prickly Fenris, the practically feral warrior, and a relentlessly fidgety one at that, and she could hold him perfectly still. Force him to keep his eyes on her and only her. It set her pulse to racing, and everything in the room seemed to be tinged with fire. And with Isabela there watching the whole thing from the doorway, she was more turned on than she'd ever been in her life.

Hawke had no idea how she had managed to get the two sexiest people in Kirkwall admiring her at the same time, but she was bound and determined to make it happen again.

That didn't mean she wasn't worried, though.

"You want to keep on tempting Fenris until he breaks?"

"That's the idea."

"I don't know, Bela. Something feels off about this." Marian looked troubled, remembering the way their friend had run off. "He was so uncomfortable, y'know?"

"It's Fenris, he's always like that." Isabela waved off her concerns. "He just needs a little more persuasion."

"What if he just leaves? He's threatened to leave Kirkwall before."

"He won't. He's got to stake out that mansion, remember? He's not taking off before he got what he came for - that magister's head on a pike." Isabela eyed her lover, hating to see that little frown spoil her beautiful face. "Come on, kitten. We're not going to make anybody do anything they don't already want to do."

"What exactly do you have in mind?"

"We'll just have to be especially tempting. He is a man, after all. I don't know if you've noticed, but the male species tends to lose all their reason at the sight of two women being intimate with each other. Not that I blame them, after all. It is a beautiful thing."

"So we're going to… make out in front of him?"

"Among other things. We'll just be a little more.. demonstrative of our affections, whenever he's around. And we'll have to be around all the time, demonstrating just how naughty we can be. Sound good?"

Hawke blushed a little. "It does sound fun. When you put it that way." Her guilty smile proved just how much she liked this idea.

"I've been a terrible influence on you," Isabela said, smiling triumphantly and throwing her arm around Hawke's shoulders. "Now, let's find you some lacy underthings."

"Is that part of your plan, too?"

"Nope. That's for *my* enjoyment, gorgeous."

* * *

The next Wicked Grace night at the Hanged Man, open sexual warfare was declared.

Unfortunately, there was clearly going to be some collateral damage.

Marian may have had Fenris on her mind when she crawled into Isabela's lap in the middle of a hand, but there were three other men at the table who went a bit bug-eyed at the sight of the diminutive Hawke curling up around the Rivanni woman.

Marian had to pretend not to notice; that was what they had agreed upon for this little exercise. She ignored Fenris in particular, which was a more difficult proposition. He was little more than three feet away, and perched sideways in Isabela's lap the elf sat almost directly in front of her, at the head of the table.

From the corner of her eye, she could tell he was suddenly studying his cards very, very carefully.

Hawke smirked and planted a kiss on the corner of Isabela's mouth, leaning her head against hers.

"Erm," Anders cleared his throat from across the table. "This is a bit unfair."

"I agree," said Sebastian, who now had a prime view of the cuddling women in the seat directly next to his.

Isabela extended her left arm around Marian's waist, holding her in place. "How do you figure? If anything, I'm the one being distracted."

"I think we're all equally disadvantaged here," Varric said, gulping a little as Hawke's hands drifted over Isabela's décolletage, playing possessively with the gold necklace the pirate always wore.

"Speak for yourselves," Aveline said crossly. She would have complained more strongly at the girls' display, but she knew an opportunity to win back the pot when she saw one. Let the men drool. At least until she made her coin.

Even Merrill looked a little fascinated by Hawke's wandering hands. "Isn't it cheating to look at another player's hand?" she asked. Isabela was holding up her cards in her right hand to ineffectively block their view of a slow, lingering kiss.

"Yes," Fenris said darkly. Surely he had memorized his cards by now.

"So, are you, uh, in or out?" Varric asked Hawke, chuckling.

"We're playing as a team," Marian told him. "It's more fun that way."

"Hit me," Isabela commanded, and then squealed. Marian had slapped her playfully somewhere not visible above the table. She glared with clearly mock anger at the smaller woman. "I meant give me more cards, for the record."

Varric shook his head and dealt the pirate two more cards. Wicked, wicked girls, his expression told them, not without humor.

Marian very unconvincingly studied Isabela's cards, and whispered into Bela's left ear. "He's looking right now," she said.

"Good," Isabela whispered back. "So is everyone else, if you haven't noticed."

Hawke bit her lip and squirmed, a bit coquettishly. She'd noticed, all right. But there was just one pair of eyes she was interested in.

She let herself look up at Fenris. For one electric moment his green eyes met hers, blazing at her from under that curtain of fine white hair, before he quickly turned his gaze away.

"I will take some cards as well," he said, his voice determinedly steady.

Hawke sighed and laid her chin on Isabela's shoulder.

The game went on around them. Although Isabela took the first hand easily (notably, all of the men folded) subsequent hands did not go as well. As usual, Varric was starting to win again.

The shock of their display may have worn off on the group, but they still had one ardent elven admirer, steadily losing money and looking more and more put out.

Hawke busied herself kissing Isabela's neck, feeling his gaze. Her lips curled back each time she nipped her lover's soft skin, letting Fenris see her bare her teeth.

She thought she heard him exhale sharply at that.

This was even more fun that Marian had imagined.

Isabela, on the other hand, was growing bored with sitting still and behaving herself. She gave over her cards for Hawke to hold. "Your turn, kitten. Maybe you'll get lucky."

The mischievous tone of her voice told Marian that the entendre was definitely intentional, and she was not disappointed. Now that Isabela had a hand free, she brought it around into her passenger's lap.

"I, um, raise the stakes," Marian said, pushing in more coin.

Sebastian folded. He also begged their pardon and left, hastily explaining that he had business to take care of.

Fenris glared at his cards as though they had personally offended him. He was nearly out of money. "I meet your bet," he said tightly.

Aveline, Anders, and Merrill all asked for more cards.

As the action went around the table, Isabela slipped her hand into Hawke's pants, and found her very wet indeed.

Marian was chewing on her lip in earnest now. Her body was commanding her to writhe at the sensation Bela's clever fingers were creating, and it took all her concentration to resist. In revenge, she allowed her free hand to wander down into Bela's cleavage.

When the bid came around to them, Marian raised again.

At his turn, Fenris's eyes darted between his cards and Marian's hand caressing Isabela's breasts.

Though he surely could not see what was happening under the table, from Hawke's flush and the hint of desperation on her face, he probably had a very good idea.

He sighed and pushed what was left of his money into the middle of the table.

Everyone else folded.

"All right ladies, let's see what you have," Varric grinned.

Hawke was by then thoroughly unable to speak without dissolving into a moan, so she simply threw down her cards.

Fenris huffed in irritation as he laid down his own hand. He was beaten, and soundly.

"Predictably, the ladies win," Varric announced.

Hawke reached out quickly to gather the pot, practically climbing out of Isabela's lap. Reaching a little too far, intentionally she brushed her hand against the elf's, making him jump guiltily.

Staying there a moment, her face close to his, she smiled slowly. "Good game," she said. Then she sat back with her winnings, Isabela curling both arms around her waist in an enthusiastic hug.

Anders leaned over to Varric. "I don't know about you, but I've never been happier to lose at cards in my life."

"I think we're all winners here," Varric whispered back. "Some of us more than others."

"I think it's time for us to retire," the pirate announced. "I have to get this one into bed."

Hawke and Isabela grabbed their winnings hurriedly, ignoring Aveline's complaints about rudeness and propriety. Hawke packed every last coin into a different pocket on Isabela's belt, lingeringly, and then, taking her hand, they went upstairs together.

Fenris watched them every step of the way, but did not follow.


	4. Chapter 4

Varric was beginning to feel more and more like a referee.

He had to be the one to warn the girls not to pull anything quite so explicit again in the Hanged Man, if they didn't want to be banished forever. He was pretty sure Aveline gave them a similar warning involving a night in lock-up, but that was probably less deterrent than she imagined, compared to losing their watering hole.

He also had to be the one to communicate with Fenris these days, since the elf was now a lot less inclined to visit the Hawke manor. He saw quite enough of Hawke everywhere else, apparently.

Varric wasn't sure how they were managing it, but somehow one or the other of them appeared everywhere the elf went. He saw it himself on a number of occasions, and it wasn't reserved to Hightown or the Hanged Man. On the docks, on the streets of Lowtown, even in the Blooming Rose, where Fenris had taken to doing his drinking most nights, either Hawke or Isabela would appear. They would be occupied with some task, talking to some stranger, always seemingly with some legitimate reason to be there.

They were haunting him, like ghosts. Sexy, persistent ghosts.

Once they saw him, the two temptresses would stop whatever they were doing and smile enticingly at him - Hawke sweetly, her lovely eyes lighting up with real pleasure at the sight of him; Isabela with a sultry, _I see you there and I'm enjoying the view _expression.

Fenris would give them a lingering look as he passed, but that was all.

Varric had been greatly amused by these shenanigans at first, but it was starting to get to him. Games were all well and good on a peaceful day in Kirkwall, but in the middle of a Situation it was damned distracting. It was bad enough for Varric when they set up camp on the side of Sundermount and the girls shared a bedroll. They were much too wrapped up in each other to converse with him in front of the fire, and his own bed was looking pretty cold by comparison. But he could eventually get some rest - unlike Fenris, who sat up all night trying not to look at the four shapely legs tangled together just a few feet away. And failing miserably, it was clear.

A distracted, sleep-deprived elf with a giant sword was just not healthy to have around. At one point Fenris became flustered enough to wander into his shot in the middle of a skirmish, so that Varric nearly hit him with a volley of arrows. Fenris apologized profusely, saying his mind was elsewhere. Well, of course it was! It was right over there with Hawke and Isabela, who were fighting back to back with their long knives - both of them beautiful, sleek and ferocious, not to mention deadly. Even when they weren't trying to entice him now, they were a distraction.

One of these days, Isabela was going to decide to pull this shit in the middle of a fight. Not Hawke, she was at least sensible enough to put everything else aside in a real battle, and she could be quite focused on accomplishing the task at hand when it came down to it. But Isabela could never quite take danger seriously. And if she decided to be distracting, who was going to get a giant sword to the head? Certainly not the lovely ladies who were getting all of Fenris's attention these days. No, it would be Varric who lost his head. And he needed his head. He kept all his best stories there.

Varric pondered these concerns as he waited for Fenris to make a rare appearance at the Hanged Man, at his request. The dwarf had cultivated quite a habit of silently narrating all of the goings-on around him, for practice. It was good to have certain descriptions worked out ahead of time, in case he would be writing about them later. When the elf appeared, Varric easily slipped into an internal monologue:

_The broody elf scanned disdainfully through the riff-raff of the dingy tavern. With his white hair and his striking tattoos, he tended to stand out in a crowd however much he tried to melt into the periphery. At last he spotted the handsome dwarf at the bar, and approached._

"Varric."

"Broody."

"... Must you call me that?"

"If I don't, I'll have to come up with something else you might like even less."

"If you insist. But I won't answer to it."

"Let's go back to my quarters." Varric lifted an impressive load of ale and lead the way.

"Have the others arrived?" Fenris asked him, as they walked into Varric's empty suite.

"Oh yes. The others. Actually..."

Fenris stopped short.

"I may have exaggerated when I said everyone would be here for a meeting."

"Exaggerated how much?"

Varric hopped into his favorite chair. "It's just you and me, Broody."

"Wonderful," Fenris said disdainfully.

_The broody elf crossed and uncrossed his arms. He never seemed to know quite what to do with his limbs, when he wasn't hacking something to pieces._

"I've been wanting to chat with you," Varric said, gesturing to a nearby seat.

Fenris remained standing. "Yes?"

"Don't get comfortable or anything," he said dryly.

After a moment of silence, Fenris acquiesced and sat down next to Varric. "Does this have something to do with Isabela and Hawke? And how you've been conspiring with them to humiliate me?"

Varric raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you think this is about?"

"That is the effect, regardless of their intention," he said stiffly.

_The elf stared away at nothing, trying in vain to conceal the tumult of emotions that… yada yada yada... or maybe he was just bored, who the hell knows. Got to work on my characterization there._

Varric took on a soothing tone, the one that he tended to use when selling something, or conning someone. "Nobody's trying to humiliate anyone."

Fenris wasn't buying. "Why are you assisting them with this... absurdity, dwarf? Is it that amusing?"

The dwarf gulped his ale and tried to think of a way to deny it, and decided not to bother.

"Well, what can I say? They do amuse me. And they're dear friends of mine, so it's easy to get swept up into their crazy plans. Did I ever tell you about the time they broke into the Viscount's office and replaced all the-"

"Varric."

"It's a good story!"

_Fenris's distinctive eyebrows came together in that particular way that indicated he was contemplating how best to mount a dwarf's head on his wall. Our clever hero decided to rethink his approach._

"Look, I get that they can come on a little strong. But they're completely serious about this. Once Isabela's got her mind set on something she's not going to give up until she gets it. And Hawke, I think she has a little crush on you."

Whatever Fenris had prepared in reply, he stumbled over it once he registered Varric's last sentence. "I - it doesn't - that is very unlikely. And regardless, you should not be encouraging them in this madness."

"They hardly need my encouragement."

Fenris let out a long sigh, and contemplated his metal gauntlets restlessly. "What was it you wished to ask of me?"

"Well, it's a little delicate, actually." Varric sat back and chewed over how best to present this little development. "The girls are asking me if I'd like to, er, substitute for you. Well, Isabela is doing the asking, but I'm assured that Hawke is fine with it."

Fenris remained placid. "That is not my business."

"I think it is, a bit. The whole idea is to make you jealous."

He snorted. "That would be next on the list, wouldn't it?" J_ust a trace of an exasperated smile. Interesting._"Will you be taking them up on it?"

"Probably not. I'm not that into the idea of being a second-best replacement, you know. I'd have to let them come onto me in front of you, and that's just not dignified. But then again, it's been awhile for me, and I do like to make sure all the important parts are in working order..."

"Go ahead then. Are you... asking my permission?"

"Not exactly. I just wondered what your thoughts on that would be. You know, if I turn them down, I'm guessing Anders is the next option."

_Oho, that made him twitch. I saw that._

"Can I give you a bit of advice, Broody?"

"No."

"How about an insight, from somebody who knows Hawke and Isabela very well?" Varric did not wait for a reply to go on. "I've seen what's been going on, and I can't help noticing… well, you never quite say no to them, do you? You ignore them, you refuse to take the bait, or you just leave. I think I heard you say 'not now' once. That was it."

Fenris looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Your point being?"

"What you haven't done is tell them to buzz off, leave you alone, or that you're not interested. You just say 'not now'. And to our Isabela, that's not a No. That's a big Maybe."

He sighed, and shifted in his chair.

"If you really do want them to leave you alone, you had probably better say so. Or I could tell them, if you wanted."

At that, the elf gave him a withering look. "I don't need protection, dwarf."

"What do you need? Seriously, what is up with this?"

"Not your business."

"When the girls are driving everybody mad with sexual frustration that's supposed to be aimed at you, I'm involved whether I like it or not. And frankly, after aiding and abetting them a little more than I should have, I'd like to know if I should be feeling bad about it."

"If I tell you, will you let the matter drop?"

Surprised, Varric simply said "yes".

Fenris crossed his arms once more, and studied the ceiling closely. "It is a Maybe."

Varric grinned triumphantly. "A-ha!"

"That's all I have to say."

"So I'd better turn them down, on the threesome invite."

He shrugged. "Do it if you like. Perhaps you would buy me some time."

"Time for what? I don't get it-"

"Of course you don't. You're like her, Isabela. You're both thieves. You don't understand why someone wouldn't just take what they wanted, whatever the consequence." Fenris stood abruptly. "I would appreciate if you did not mention this conversation to anyone else."

"Goes without saying," Varric waved him off.

_And that was that. The mysterious broody elf slunk out of the handsome dwarf's quarters having explained almost nothing, leaving him to wonder whether he should hope the two temptresses left him alone for awhile, or that they would corner him somewhere and kiss some sense into him, and whether the elf would hold it against him if he did go to bed with Isabela and Hawke, and-_

Oh hell. I'd like to see the elf not be so damned tragic all the time. Whatever makes that happen is good by me.

Varric concluded that this was best handled between the three of them, since he wouldn't even begin to know where to meddle here. He just hoped somebody would be left standing at the end to tell him the story, because it was bound to be juicy.


	5. Chapter 5

The Viscount's Keep always made Isabela antsy. Entirely too much Law and Order about the place, between the guard barracks and the city officials. Outside the barracks, people spoke in low "civilized" tones, respectful silences, and (in her presence at least) haughty denial of your existence. Inside the barracks, it was a bit more lively, but with enthusiasm dedicated to obliterating all the things Isabela liked best: smuggling, thievery, obscenity, public drunkenness - all of the good things in life. It was impossible to breathe in there for all the pompous self-righteousness congesting the air.

Even Hawke was no fun in the Viscount's Keep. Ever since she met the Viscount and became his special problem-solving buddy, Marian had gotten the idea that she had responsibilities that she should take seriously. While she was still up for any sort of trouble that Isabela could come up with the rest of the time, in the Viscount's Keep she was strictly on Good Behavior these days. And she was visiting the Keep more and more, recently, because of her dealings with the Qunari.

Blasted Qunari. If Isabela could never hear the word Qunari again, she'd recite the sodding Chant of Light in a modest habit and she would even wear underwear and refrain from flashing Sebastian her knickers, for a full afternoon, in a fit of gratitude.

Hawke had bounced into the Hanged Man just that morning, and she had a wonderful glint in her eye and that winning smile - the one that meant Isabela could not deny her anything. So she had let her bring her to the Viscount's Keep for yet another discussion about the rotted sodding Qunari. Damn that smile.

But they had brought Fenris along, and he was good for a bit of fun.

Oh, he played stern and forbidding, but Isabela knew he was not nearly so serious as he pretended. The elf was the one reliable audience for her jokes and stories, no matter how inappropriate the situation. Always good for a comment or a smile, or at least a smirk. When even Hawke turned into a stick-in-the-mud, Isabela could always entertain herself by trying to make Fenris laugh.

There were times when Isabela wanted, even more than to bed him, just to make Fenris laugh, it was so rare and so delightful.

On that afternoon in the Viscount's office, Hawke was deeply immersed in conversation with the Viscount - something to do with the Viscount's fool son and his fool father's inability to keep him away from the Qunari camp - and Isabela grew bored. Dangerously bored.

For the first time in weeks, she managed to catch Fenris's eye. Isabela yawned largely and she was rewarded with a ghost of a smile.

Nobody else noticed. So the pirate took the opportunity to slip out of the room.

The sitting room was equally boring, so Isabela turned straight into Seneschal Bran's empty office. Like the man himself, the room was obsessively neat and almost rudely unrevealing. Casually, Isabela ran her fingers along the shelves that lined his wall. There wasn't even dust! The books were real, but completely uninformative - atlases and dry historical collections of municipal records.

"He just has to have a dungeon entrance in here, I know it," Isabela complained. "If any man needs to be chained to a wall for a fun time, Bran is that man."

"I don't recommend it," Fenris said dryly from the doorway. "It's terrible for your arms. You lose all feeling after a few minutes."

Isabela continued her stroll around the administrator's pristine office, poking at objects that might yield something interesting.

"You should probably not be in here," he warned her.

"Oh, the ginger won't be back for ages. I saw him lecturing a scribe on the proper notation for architectural measurements, or something equally dull."

Isabela sat on the Seneschal's desk and flipped through the book she found there. A History of Grain Taxation, Volume 6. She thought surely a more interesting reading material would be concealed inside, but the notes scribbled in the book's margins indicated otherwise.

"We should probably go back to Hawke."

"Oh, let's not. The Viscount can go on for days talking about what's wrong with Kirkwall, and Hawke will let him. I do adore her, but she's frightfully boring when she's being serious."

Isabela looked up at him over the book, as he finally shrugged and came into the office. She watched him cross the room in that slouchy, wary way he had. He paid minimal attention to the bookshelves and ornaments, and stopped at the window to look out. Unlike her, he took care not to disturb any objects in the room, and wasn't a bit interested in nosing through his papers.

He had really only joined her in case the Seneschal returned, she knew very well.

Fenris was the only man, or elf, she'd ever met whose courtly manner was not a façade. He didn't do it to impress anyone, or for politeness' sake. Isabela knew with confidence that he truly did not care what anyone thought of him. After all, he wore his Imperial armor to this very day, the same armor he had worn as a magister's slave. He may as well have "runaway slave" tattooed across his forehead, so strongly did his appearance speak to the Imperium and its atrocities. What steps did he take to put people at ease, to blend in, to disguise himself as just another elf in Kirkwall? None whatsoever. He was what he was. Take it or leave it.

Isabela loved that. Loved it.

Even in his most annoying moments, Isabela had to respect that kind of honesty.

Which made it all the more maddening, the fact that he resisted all attempts at seduction, from any parties, so far as she could tell. It couldn't be for any appearance of propriety, or for silly moral compunctions about chastity and purity. Fenris was no Sebastian; surely he had no vows to prevent physical pleasure.

An alarmingly handsome specimen like Fenris sleeping alone was a shame. That he resisted all her own efforts to entice him, when it was perfectly plain that he was attracted to her, was a tragedy. Isabela knew very well when someone wanted her, and he wanted her. It was something you learned to pick up, like the scent of the coming rain. In his case, it was more like a hurricane. Suppressing that kind of passion was a crime against nature. One that Isabela was bound and determined to rectify.

Cheerfully, she smacked shut the book and tossed it aside, hopping to the floor. "Well, I know how to make things more interesting," she announced, breezing back across the room.

With a quick motion, she shut the heavy door and locked it.

"What are you doing?" Fenris said from the window. This was not so much a question as a statement of long-suffering irritation.

"I prefer an audience of one for this sort of thing," she said. Her hands got to work untying the sash around her waist, letting it flutter to the ground. "Actually I usually don't, but this time is special."

"Isabela," he said warningly, without turning around.

Isabela pulled the bandana from her hair and shook her head, allowing a cloud of wild dark hair to settle alluringly around her face. The bandana floated down and joined her sash on the floor. She now got to work removing her leather gloves.

Fenris threw her a glance over his shoulder, one that was probably meant to be brief but ended up lingering there. "You can't be serious. In Bran's office? With the Viscount in the next room?"

"Door's locked. And a little danger can be very... inspiring."

He sighed and came around the desk to collect her slowly growing pile of clothing. Which was a tactical error. Isabela had begun to peel her long leather boots down from her thighs, and with the elf coming into range, she reached out and grabbed his arm for stabilization, making him jump.

"That's the trouble with these boots. You really need three hands to get them off. Care to help?"

He could not resist looking down at her shapely brown thigh, the black leather slowly revealing an expanse of muscular calf. Then he grabbed at her wrists, forcing her to put both feet on the floor.

"Isabela. Not now."

She grinned. "Then when? Tell me when and where, I'll be there with bells on. And nothing else."

Releasing her arms, he took the opportunity to back in the direction of the door. "What about Hawke?" he reminded her, as though she could have forgotten her own lover.

"She can wait her turn." Giving up on her boot, which hung open around her leg like a split banana peel, Isabela began unlacing her corset instead. "She can watch next time. She'd like that."

Another step back. "She doesn't mind you coming on to every man in Kirkwall?"

"There's plenty of me to go around." She stopped her striptease temporarily to put her hands on her hips. "And I **don't** proposition just anyone, I'll have you know. Yes, I like sex. I like to have sex with people that I like. Not just random people off the street. And I like you, Fenris. You're clever, you're fun, you're kind of sweet, you **usually** don't judge me, and you're sexy as hell. I think we would have fun together."

"Isabela.. You are very... persistent, and very tempting, and... I simply cannot."

"Can't why?" A note of frustration colored her voice. "Are you secretly married? Is there a spell on you? Did you lose your manly parts in a tragic fencing accident?"

"You don't understand."

"You're right, I don't understand! You want this! I know you want this! Everything about you absolutely screams it!"

"Oh, you're an expert on me, are you?" he snapped bitterly.

"You're obvious, you're dreadfully obvious." Isabela refastened her boot, to keep it from flapping about.

"Just..." he trailed off and looked at the floor. "Just dress yourself, so I can open the door."

Generally Isabela preferred to entice her lovers rather than throw herself at them, so she would never be quite sure what came over her at this moment. She looked at Fenris, really looked at him. His face was downcast and his body was positively rigid with unease. She could see that a part of him was very far away. She wanted suddenly to bring him back to this room. Back to her.

_What the hell,_ she thought.

And in a quick stride she closed the space between them, brought her hands to his face, and kissed him.

She brought such force to the kiss that her body fully crashed into his armored plate, and it was rather like stumbling into a brick wall that did not yield, that held her upright. She could feel herself being propelled backwards, actually, as though he were pushing her away. But his lips did not agree. He kissed her back with a startling ferocity, artless and savage.

He smelled of leather and tasted like wine, exactly as she expected but so, so much better.

Her world was upended, and suddenly her back was crashing into a hard, flat surface and he was pressing her into it relentlessly. He possessed her mouth, invading with his tongue, his teeth. Her upper body was pinioned; she had forgotten how strong he was, and the reminder lit a fire in her belly. Her legs parted, embraced him as he ground his hips, and the insistent bulge between them, against her. His hands were wandering all along her body, clumsy and frantic, his talons scratching and clawing at all of the things that were in the way of her skin.

She arched her back and grasped at his armor, pulling him insistently in to rest entirely against her, and relished the small hungry sound he made in return.

It was only a dizzying few seconds of this before an insistent banging at the door broke the spell.

Fenris's head jerked back at the sound, and for a moment he looked at her startled, as though he didn't know who she was or how he had gotten on top of her. Breathing hard, he pulled back.

Isabela sat up and found herself splayed on top of Seneschal Bran's desk, pens and paper scattered everywhere, with an ornate-looking paperweight jabbing her in the thigh. Her skin stung in all the places where he had scratched her, and she could feel a rent in her shirt where he had torn the fabric away.

Fenris was backing away from her, furious.

"Damn you," he swore at her. His eyes were almost entirely black with rage.

"Fenris?"

Abruptly, he turned and punched the wall. It made a loud, sharp sound that made her jump. With his metal gauntlets, he left quite an impressive dent there, and he had to grab his arm and pull to get it out.

It was the anger that shocked her. Even though she could see that he was angry mostly at himself, for giving in to her.

It was not exactly the response she was going for.


	6. Chapter 6

"Um, hello?" a voice from behind the closed office door called. "The door seems to be stuck."

Isabela arranged herself at the edge of Bran's desk, making an effort not to look as flustered as she felt. Her legs crossed, she leaned back on the palms of her hands and leaned her head against her shoulder as if she hadn't a care in the world. But she kept her eyes on Fenris, who was pacing and brushing bits of crumbled wall off his right gauntlet.

The voice at the door was young and tentative, probably a page. "Can someone let me in? I'm to bring back Seneschal Bran's ledger, and he's going to be so cross..."

"Why must you torment me like this?" Fenris growled at her in a low voice, his face averted.

Isabela was only now realizing that he didn't mean torment in the fun way.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he went on, "Is this fun for you? Do you enjoy breaking my will? You're just like **her**!"

"Her who? Hawke? Look, if anything, I dragged her into this, okay? -"

He focused on her at last, advancing upon her until one taloned hand was gripping the desk at either side of her body, which brought him eye to eye with the now-wary pirate.

"You can play your games with anyone in Kirkwall, man or woman, and yet you will not leave me in peace!"

"I guess you're just irresistible, love."

"Shut up!" The lyrium embedded in the elf's skin flared to life. At this distance, Isabela could actually feel the power flowing through him. It made the hairs on her arms stand at end, like one of Anders' electric currents.

"My self-control is all that I have. Without it... I'm no better than a slave."

Isabela smiled. She still thought she could regain command of the situation, if she played her cards right. "Losing control is the best part, Fenris. It's what passion is all about."

"Woman, I assure you, you do not want me to lose control of myself."

"I think I could handle it."

Is a sudden flash of movement, faster than even the nimble pirate could react, Fenris brought his hand to her chest and shoved her down. With his taloned claws pricking painfully into her chest, he pushed her back onto the desk, the palm of his hand pinning her by the sternum.

"You think you know me? You have no idea what lives inside me," he snarled at her. "Even you cannot imagine the things that I have done."

"Um?" The voice at the door got a little louder and a little more alarmed. "What's going on in there? If you won't open the door, I'm getting the skeleton key!"

Isabela was thoroughly trapped now, an angry Fenris only inches from her face, covering her body in a cruel imitation of the pleasure they had shared only a few minutes before.

Had Isabela been anyone else, she might have been frightened. Fenris was unnaturally strong, unreasonably angry, and with the lyrium in his skin activated he looked like nothing less than a demon. He could have torn her limb from limb.

But by nature, Isabela did not get scared. She got defiant.

"Yeah, you were part of the Evil Empire, we know. You were a bodyguard for an evil magister. You've told us all about it. You killed people. You rip people's hearts out. **So what**? So have the rest of us, in case you haven't noticed. You've seen us gut our enemies, and not just shades and abominations, either."

"Do you really think," he hissed, shaking her, "that my duties ended there?"

She stopped short at that. A dreadful feeling pooled in the pit of her stomach. One that was not helped by that look in the elf's eyes, how they radiated pain back at her accusingly.

"You thought that was funny too, as I recall. The sordid details of my life in slavery are just another amusement for you. You must have known it was true. You have seen how vile the world can be. You know what use a cruel master will find for their servants."

She took a deep breath. "So you're never having sex again?"

He glared at her.

Unwilling to be cowed, she went on. "Fine, it's none of my business. But you think you're the only one who's suffered? You're not so special."

What was going on inside her? Isabela felt like she wanted to puke, or scream, or maybe even cry. She had an unfortunate suspicion that this was **guilt**. Her least favorite emotion.

She closed her eyes. "I've suffered," she said, and did not go on.

Fenris released her, stood up and backed away. She stayed lying back on the desk, staring up at the ceiling.

This wasn't what she wanted to happen at all.

When she turned her head, Fenris was no longer glowing. He had one hand up to his face, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

"I'm sorry," he said in a strange voice. "I should not have... I'm sorry, Isabela."

"No harm done," she answered, a bit less cheerfully than she intended.

"This is why... you should give up on this, both of you. Leave me in peace."

She sighed and sat up, tightening her corset once again and smoothing down her clothing, making herself at least somewhat presentable to the rest of the world.

"I will," she said, finally.

Fenris opened the office door and left.

Isabela got up off the desk, looking uncharacteristically downcast, and collected her sash, her belt, and her bandana. As she tied them all around her she could hear Hawke greeting him outside.

"Hey, where did you disappear to? Have you seen Isabela? Fenris? Where are you going? Hey!"

Then her lovely face appeared at the office door, just as the pirate was fixing the bandana around her hair. "There you are! What happened to Fenris? He looks like a kicked puppy... you kind of do too, actually, are you all right? Bela?"

"I'm fine," she said resolutely. "Let's get out of here."

She grabbed Hawke's arm and rushed the two of them out of the Viscount's Keep.

Behind them they heard one last shouting voice, and Isabela had to restrain Hawke from going back to investigate.

It said: "WHAT HAPPENED TO MY OFFICE?"

Hawke filled Isabela in about the meeting with the Viscount, a long and animated account that Isabela hardly heard. Apparently Hawke had to rush to meet with Aveline and Varric. Something about that business with the Viscount's boy, who they were going out to search for.

Of course it would involve the Qunari. Everything did, anymore.

Isabela made her excuses, and insisted on returning to the Hanged Man for now. Hawke could pick up Merrill at the alienage for today's escapade, and they could meet up the next day.

Hawke accepted her excuses, but eyed her worriedly. "What happened back there? You're going to fill me in, right?"

"Of course, kitten. Later. After your little errand."

Here they had to part; Isabela to Lowtown, Hawke to her rendezvous. The two embraced, lingeringly.

"I love you," Hawke said. "Just remember that."

Isabela didn't answer her. She never did.

She returned to the Hanged Man, got blisteringly drunk, and went to bed alone.

In retrospect, she should really have told Hawke what happened while she had the chance.


	7. Chapter 7

When Hawke arrived home from the Viscount's errand a day later, there was a note waiting for her at the estate.

_Marian-___

_Going out to stretch my legs for a bit. I heard a rumor about my relic. I'll be dug in with the riff-raff on the docks for awhile. Will come and see you as soon as I'm back.___

_- Isabela_

Thus, Hawke completed in her mind, conveniently avoiding any conversation about what happened between you and Fenris.

She could be so damned evasive sometimes. She could disappear for a week, and then show up like nothing had happened. Where had she been? "Out."

This when Hawke had never given her any reason not to trust her, had in fact gone out of her way to emphasize her devotion to Isabela's independence and happiness.

Hawke knew very well what "stretching her legs" probably entailed, and it wasn't just infiltrating a gang of smugglers. Well, as long as she still pinned Hawke to her bed for days on end whenever she reappeared, it was alright with her.

If she was bound and determined to breeze in and out of Marian's life as she pleased, Hawke was not going to stop her. She would always wait with open arms for Bela to come home, whenever she was ready. Maybe that would finally show Isabela that she was not going to suddenly turn around and betray her, as so many people in the pirate's life had done.

But what had happened in the Viscount's suite? Isabela had neatly avoided telling her, and Fenris was not likely to be helpful.

Hawke laid her arms on the desk and rested her chin on them. It was lonely when Bela was away. Normally she took this opportunity to visit with her friends, but these days her friends were occupied. Aveline was all wrapped up in Donnic, Varric was hunting for his brother Bartrand, and Fenris.. well, Fenris wasn't speaking to her, was he?

She realized she had not been alone with Fenris since all of this had started. They used to be able to talk. She liked talking with him; he was a good listener, unlike a lot of the people she ran with. Plus, he was compulsively honest; if she asked, he would probably have told her the whole story about what the two of them were doing in Bran's office.

But that was before they propositioned him. Now he was too uncomfortable around her to even come along on their various missions around the city, and that was a problem. They needed his blade, and what's more, his experience with the Qunari was going to be invaluable in the days to come.

The more Hawke thought about this, over the next few days, the more she began to think the whole thing had been a mistake. Isabela would be furious with her for saying so. She still insisted it would all work out in their favor once Fenris gave in to their temptation. But in the process, they had completely alienated him from the group. No one saw him much anymore. He hardly ever left that horrible house. Was it really worth having sex with him if they lost his friendship in the process?

So she decided – before Isabela could return and talk her out of it – to go to Fenris and wave a white flag. With a sincere apology and a promise to convince Isabela to cooperate.

And if Bela didn't like it, well, she'd jump off that bridge when she came to it.

Trouble was, how to make him listen to her, what with the whole not-talking-to-her thing. He wasn't answering the door, and she could hardly write him a letter. She'd seen the pile of unread missives strewn by the door, unopened.

He would not appreciate her picking the lock to his door and breaking into his house. But what else could she do?

**

In the end, at the close of a very long and boring day with no sign of Isabela, Hawke broke into the house next door instead.

Breaking and entering was her specialty. She'd never enjoyed pickpocketing, although she had the skill when it was needed. But she enjoyed almost nothing more than breaking open closed doors to see what was behind them. Nowadays she hardly needed to pilfer stray riches to support her family, but she still on occasion would pick the lock of a particularly interesting looking estate and stroll through it, just to keep a hand in.

This lock was so simple it was almost insulting. Light-footed, Hawke stole through the Hightown estate and made her way to the garden door. She could hear a few muffled voices coming from closed doors, and stole quickly past them. Whoever lived there (she had never seen them personally) they had an appalling taste in decoration. Obviously Orlesian, everything drowning in lace and flowers and ornate enameled patterns that warred with each other for your eye.

The garden was slightly better - still overdone, but at least with living and growing flowers rather than opulent fakery. There were at least three fountains bubbling with water, and blossoms of every shape and variety. If she had not been in a hurry to leave before she was spotted, she might have liked to linger there among the flowers.

The adjoining garden that was her destination was a completely different case. Even from a very limited glimpse available to her over the high garden wall, the most prominent colors displayed were brown and grey. Dead things and rocks.

Cheery.

She lifted herself to peer over the wall, looking for a safe spot to land. There were brambles all over the place, painful looking ones. Beyond the overgrown vines and thorn bushes, closer to the magister's mansion, Hawke caught a flash of movement. The sun glinted off a steel sword whipping through the air that darted out of her view.

Hawke scrambled over the wall, hopefully without attracting too much attention, and darted behind a scraggly-looking bush. She was looking for a better place to hide and scout the territory, when she caught a glimpse of Fenris and promptly froze.

She had come upon Fenris in a pair of loose trousers and nothing else, the sun turning his skin a warm golden as he performed a series of exercises with his weaponry.

Her eyes widened as Hawke drank him in. She had never seen him without his armor, not even once. Now here he was without a shirt, and giving her a spectacular view of his upper half in action.

Hawke crept closer, no longer thinking very much of stealth. Crouching behind another set of brambles not twenty feet away, she could for the first time stare at him uninterrupted, without startling him off. She knew she should feel guilty about spying on him like this. It was a bit pervy, wasn't it? She would stop. She would reveal herself and hope he didn't punch her in the spleen. In a few… more… minutes...

He wasn't all that much taller than Hawke herself, but quite tall for an elf, and his torso looked very long and lean. His muscular shoulders, usually hidden under spiky paldrons, flexed smoothly as he held his huge sword aloft, turned it, spun around and struck. The long, corded muscles that lead from his neck to his shoulders were so sleek and smooth. Her eyes followed them back and forth, the way she wanted to trace that line with the tips of her fingers. His long arms extended around him fully, fluidly, and the spidery veins of lyrium that encircled them seemed to flow like water as he moved. She was fascinated by the subtle rippling of his abdominal muscles under his dusky skin. She wanted to taste that skin. She wanted to bite him. Dear maker what was wrong with her, that was such a bizarre thought. But right then she wanted to press her face to that chest more than she wanted anything else in the world. She had to settle for biting her lip instead.

What made the moment even more special was that she had never seen him quite so loose and relaxed. With no one around to observe, he seemed almost like a different person. Calmer, less tense. With his sword, unlike most other things, he was confident, in command. This, Hawke felt, was what he would really be like, if she could ever get to know him truly, and if he didn't have so much baggage weighing him down. Strong. Solid. Elegant. Graceful.

Just as her legs were growing tired, and she realized she had not gotten around to fully concealing herself (with all the ogling of the male form and whatnot) Fenris spoke up.

"Come out now. I know you're here."

Hawke put one hand to the ground and held very still. If she was not careful in revealing herself, she really would get a close-up view of Shirtless Fenris. Just before he impaled her.

Fenris turned again, smoothly, and pointed his sword in her direction. Without looking away from the point of his sword, he addressed the intruder. "I do not appreciate your breaking into my home, Hawke."

"I didn't break in," she said indignantly, as she emerged from the brush. "Not into your house, anyway. I picked the lock to the neighbors, and climbed over the back wall."

He let his sword fall to his side, turning away from her. "You could have used the front door."

"Your front door is locked, and you don't answer when I knock."

There was a bench next to the house where he set his sword. To her relief, he immediately grabbed at a shirt, a black shirt, and pulled it over his head.

For some impossible reason, this was even worse. The light shirt clung to his musculature in a ridiculously appealing way.

_Maker, Fenris. Must you look so attractive when I'm actually NOT trying to seduce you? You're making this very bloody difficult..._

"I'm sorry to sneak up on you like this, really I am. I just needed to talk to you, and I can't find you anywhere anymore."

"Talk, then," he said shortly, opening the back door to his mansion.

She followed him in, unsure where to begin. She had entirely forgotten the little speech she had rehearsed earlier, so flustered she had been by the scene witnessed moments ago.

It had given her an entirely new idea, one completely contrary to her mission here today. She didn't know if it was a bad idea, or a very bad idea, or the best idea she'd ever had. She wished, once again, that Isabela was there with her.

"I came to.. talk about what's been going on," she began.

Fenris cut her off abruptly. "Did Isabela tell you? About.. a few days ago?"

"No, she didn't tell me anything. She took off, actually."

He sighed. He had lead her into the sitting room where he spent most of his time, and knelt at the corner where his armor was neatly laid out. "I suppose that was too much to hope for," he said, mostly to himself.

Marian noticed that already he had tensed up, holding himself in tighter control than what she had seen of him outside. Even his face was guarded, revealing nothing of whatever was happening inside.

"You don't have to-" Marian started to say, and then stopped. He was already pulling his armored plate over his head and buckling it in place.

She supposed that was a relief, to have that very distracting view removed for this important conversation. But it made her sad to think he could not be around her without covering himself in armor.

It was another reminder that perhaps she had been incredibly foolish to think that anything could happen between them.

When he stood, fully armored now, Hawke spoke up.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry. For the last few weeks, for Isabela and I."

Fenris turned to look at her warily.

"It all seemed like a good idea at the time. But now I hardly see you anymore and it's all very awkward and I... I rather miss you. Your company, that is. I miss us all joking around in the Hanged Man, playing cards, drinking. Having you with us. So I just wanted to... apologize."

"That isn't necessary, Hawke." Finally he came closer to her, seemingly put at ease by her words.

"I want to. This is hard to explain... it's a bit embarassing, really. You must think we're some kind of crazed sex maniacs."

"Just maniacs, perhaps."

It was nice to hear him joking again.

"Well anyway, it was something that Isabela wanted to do for me, and..."

Hawke had suddenly become the most inarticulate person on the entire planet. She hardly knew what she was saying anymore. Maker, she should not be doing this. The whole idea was to put an end to the ridiculous situation they were in. But now that she was here in front of him, she could not resist one last ditch effort. It was a nagging feeling that she could not shake, that she needed to try **just one more time**.

"Okay, this is driving all of us crazy, so... I'm just going to put it to you - I mean, in a question - and you say yes or no and we all go on our merry way, and I never mention any of this again ever. Okay?"

Aghast, he tried to stop her from continuing this train of thought. "Hawke-"

"I'm going to suggest something different than before. Because I've thought about this a lot, and what might, um, work for everybody. And I thought that maybe you'd like to watch Isabela and I?"

"I've been doing little else recently," he said pointedly.

"I mean fully. Come into our bedroom, watch us have sex."

"I don't – wait – what?"

"Just watching. Nothing else. No pressure to join. You wouldn't have to do anything, just be there, just watch."

Fenris looked utterly baffled. "But - what would you get out of that?"

She grinned, a little shyly. "Well, I get Isabela, obviously. And we get to share ourselves with someone else. And if you enjoy it, then I'll be happy for that. And Isabela would be thrilled, she loves to show off, so I'll enjoy her being happy as well. You see?"

"No," he said. He still looked a bit confused.

"Well," Hawke said, backing away a little bit to emphasize that she was not trying to pressure him, "just think about it, okay? Anyway, either way we're backing off. No more public displays, no more showing up places you go. I promise, no more of that."

"What about this new proposal? You won't keep asking me about it?"

"No, no. I'll never mention it again, okay? Not unless you bring it up. I want you to come back with us. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I'll make sure Isabela backs off too."

"Thank you," he said.

"So... I'll just go out the front door, then," she said, awkwardly.

Fenris followed her. His expression was thoughtful.

"Was this… watching… Isabela's idea?"

"Well, no. Actually she doesn't know about it. I don't know where she is, like I said. She took off a few days ago. She does that sometimes."

He looked a bit regretful, at that.

"She wouldn't say a word about what happened between the two of you. And don't try to tell me nothing happened, because clearly you were both upset."

"It is my turn to apologize, then. I did not intend to come between the two of you. You should ask her to explain, when she returns."

"It must be a big deal. You're not talking to me, she's not talking to me, but clearly you talked to each other, and you're both upset."

"What exactly do you think is going on?" he asked quizzically.

"I don't know." Hawke was making her way down the stairs of the front hall, and stopped. She took a deep breath, and decided she may as well explain her suspicions. She looked back at him, lingering above her.

"I thought that maybe the two of you did something, and maybe you felt guilty about it. Because of me. Maybe, instead of a group of three, you two would rather just have each other. Which would be okay," she added quickly. "I'd be fine with that. It would be nice to see you happy. Both of you."

Fenris gave her a look that, on another face, she might have called affectionate.

"That is... kind of you to say, Hawke. But do not worry. I do not intend to steal Isabela away from you."

"It wouldn't be stealing. It would be more like... sharing. Really, if you did do something together, I wouldn't be mad."

He gave her a strange look, but said nothing, so she went on.

"I know Isabela takes other lovers. For her, it's like with sailing – it's in her blood. I'd rather she spend the occasional night with someone else than have her taking off in her ship for god-knows-where. It makes her happy. As long as she comes back to me, that's all I care about."

Hawke went on: "She'd really like me to come along - for both, you know - the sailing and the sex. But I can't really do either. I'm settled here in Kirkwall. I need to stay with my mother; I'm all she has left. And I just... I don't do one-night-stands. I know she'd love me to, but... it's not me."

She sighed. "That was the whole idea, actually, of getting you involved. Somebody we both liked, somebody I would be comfortable with."

He cleared his throat at last, perhaps trying to steer the conversation away from himself. "I hear Varric is ready to volunteer."

"Varric? Oh my god, who told you?" She covered her face with her hands. Everyone in the world knew everything about her business, she just needed to get used to that.

He smiled just a little. "He did."

"Bela asked him. She asked me first, I said it was fine. It's not exactly what I had in mind, though."

"Why not?"

"Oh, he's lovely, and one of my best friends, but he will undoubtedly make it into a story he tells everyone in the world. And I just don't see it being a regular thing, you know, more of a one-off. And then forever after that he'll have seen me naked, and I'll have seen him naked, and it's just going to be strange."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "And it wouldn't be strange with me?"

She blushed a little. "That's different." _Fuck, Isabela was right, I do turn into a 13-year-old girl around him._ "With you it wouldn't be strange at all. It would just be... nice."

_Nice? Fuck._

Rapidly she attempted to change the subject. "So, uh, what did he say, Fenris, was he freaked out? Confused? Interested?"

"It was a kind of courtesy. He wanted to know where I stood on the matter."

"Oh," she said.

Fenris passed her on the stairs, to let her out of the front door.

Maker, he was just so beautiful. There was no other word for it. It was positively unfair. His profile was so perfect; he could have been carved out of marble. He brought such refinement to every little motion, particularly his hands. His hands just killed her, those long graceful fingers, and the way they fluttered when he was agitated and trying to hide it. Even in the dim light of the dusty mansion, there was a silvery glint to his hair and to the elegant lines of his lyrium tattoos, so that they seemed to glow. Was she a terrible person for admiring something that caused him so much pain? She wanted to travel those white channels with her tongue, follow them everywhere. All along those sinewy muscles, his lean frame, right up that delicate neck, to his delicious lips.

At the door, he stopped short in the middle of wrestling with the rusting locks.

"Hawke," he said, keeping his back to her. His hands were in fists at his side.

"Yes?"

"All right. I will do this."

"What?"

"The watching. I can do that much. That much, and no more."

"Really?" Hawke tried valiantly to conceal just how thrilled she was, for fear of scaring him off. Would he really agree to this?

"On one condition," he said firmly.

"Whatever you want!" she squealed. Isabela would be so happy.

He turned around. "It has to be now. Tonight."

"But-"

"Before I change my mind."

She thought wildly. Tonight? Now?

"Okay. Okay. Give me an hour or two, okay? I just have to find Bela and get her over here."

He nodded, sharply, and reached out to tweak the locks open.

Running at top speed to the docks, all Marian could think was: _Maker, I hope she hasn't shipped out. Please be there, Isabela. Please._


	8. Chapter 8

Kirkwall's Docks were not generally considered to be one of the city's top attractions. The district was filthy, noisy, and smelly, as all such places are. They were also home to the most smugglers and criminals per square inch in the entire Free Marches.

Your average stroll along the boardwalk tended to end with a mugging, followed by the spectacle of watching your muggers duke it out with assailants of their own – a struggle during which, on a particularly nice day, you would be able to flee with your lives. The shipyards were a honeycomb of crime, housing stolen goods of every conceivable variety. Even legitimate businesses were often run by criminals moonlighting as harbormasters and sailors, as the notion took them. Periodically large sectors of the Docks would burn down, set ablaze either by their own proprietors, when they had decided to move along, or by rival gangs.

All of which gave a haphazard air to the place, with most buildings looking cobbled together on the fly, most walkways rotting into the water, and what ships were docked there a pitiful display. Some of the higher class of ships traveling to Kirkwall had been known to skip over the harbor altogether, convinced that this could not possible be their destination. In short, the docks were right alongside the Darktown slums in terms of reputation in the city.

Isabela, of course, loved them.

The docks were her kingdom, and the people there were her people. Ruffians, vagrants, crooks, runaways, whatever their race, they were her tribe. In these circles, Captain Isabela was well known, and her exploits legendary. She could walk onto any ship here and be recognized. About half of those who spotted her wanted to kill her, true, but it was still nice to be noticed.

She loved to walk along the docks at night, smelling the salty air, contemplating the occasional bloated corpse floating in its waters. And if the occasional sneak-thief should find the courage to challenge her, she was only too happy to add another body to the harbor.

Most of all, the docks were the ideal place to come for information, which was traded here like any other product. One just needed coin in their pockets, gossip of their own to offer, and their most winning smile - and a bit of cleavage had never hurt. Armed with that, there was nothing she couldn't hear of here, whether the news came from the Viscount's keep in Hightown, the most sacred offices of the Chantry, the back rooms of the Blooming Rose, or from just over the high fences that enclosed the Qunari camp.

It was this last that had Isabela questing in the shipyards today, looking for word of a priceless Qunari holy book that she had held in her own hands not four years ago. The last she had heard, the book was being traded from one band of smugglers to another, none of whom had any real idea what the thing even was. It should have been obvious that the book was Qunari, being of such a great size, but no one of sufficient brainpower had held the thing as yet. That was the clock she was racing against, for as soon as someone realized they could sell the book back to the Qunari at a sizeable reward, she was as good as dead.

Time was running out for her. She had let Hawke distract her from her one goal in Kirkwall, to find the relic and take back her life. Now, years later, she still had no relic, and Castillon meant to have her head for it. Worse, the Qunari refused to leave the city, were more and more visible and troublesome all the time, and if any of them recognized her she was going to have a very big problem.

Worst of all, she had never told Hawke the truth about her lost relic. If she'd told her about it years ago, that would have been one thing. But too much time had passed now. The longer you waited to reveal something unpleasant, the worse it got, and the more a more-or-less innocent omission came to resemble an out-and-out lie.

Now Hawke was dangerously involved with the Qunari, was even acquainted with Arishok himself, and Isabela could not bring herself to tell her that the very thing that brought them to Kirkwall - the thing that would allow them to leave - was the thing she needed to save her own neck.

She honestly didn't know what Hawke was going to do when she found out.

Hawke was loyal, and you could always count on her in a pinch. But for a sneak-thief she had a pesky moral streak that surfaced at the strangest times. It could be damned inconvenient having a lover with scruples, when you've dedicated pretty much your whole life to criminal enterprise.

It wasn't like Hawke was going to turn her in or anything. But she could start making certain demands. And that, if it happened, was going to rapidly bring an end to this… whatever they had going.

Marian was technically a Lady now. They joked about that all the time, especially when she was covered in blood and dirt, or when Isabela had her in a particularly compromising position. But it was getting less and less funny now, the longer she stayed in Hightown and rubbed shoulders with the Grand Cleric and the people who ran Kirkwall.

It was hard to gage how long it would be before Marian tired of this life and went domestic like her mother always wanted. Started going to balls and sipping tea in drawing rooms and cooing over lacey infants. Started acting like a respectable member of Society. That would be the end of Fun Times for Isabela and Hawke. Time to move along.

Isabela tried not to give that particular day much thought. It was coming, someday. But not yet. Hopefully not yet.

If she could just get ahold of that relic and get it back to Castillon, everything would settle down. Then the Qunari could chase HIM to wherever he went next, and they could all be someone else's problem.

So there she sat, rolling dice with a braintrust of muscled men, casually dropping reference to big scores and foreign goods and letting them look down her shirt - although if any of these grubby sorts got touchy, she would slice their fingers off. She had already helped them move some merchandise into Darktown earlier in the week through some of her own contacts, so she was in a favorable position. These guys had the goods, if not the smarts, to get ahold of the valuable prize that was hiding somewhere in Kirkwall, once she had persuaded them that this was exactly what they needed.

And then she saw Marian.

She only saw her for a second, just a shadow crossing the wall above that revealed someone hiding behind the topmost row of crates. There was no shadow she knew half so well as that one. It was Marian, there, in the warehouse, spying on her. Marian, who would look like a prize beauty no matter how many layers of dirt concealed her, who attracted attention just taking out the garbage. And though an excellent burglar and pickpocket, if spotted she was in no way convincing as a denizen of the docks.

Marian was going to blow her cover.

Steaming, Isabela struggled out of the crowd of cheering men playing at dice. "Out of the way, boys," she said breezily, shoving one of them aside. "Off to take a piss."

"Need any help?" Several men offered this assistance at once, and just as though it were the cleverest thing they had ever thought.

"S'allright. Maybe John there will let you hold it for him next time."

An agreeable sort of roar followed behind her as Isabela barreled out of a side door into the night and hovered in the shadows there until the door slid silently open one more time and Marian slipped out.

"What in blazes are you doing here, Hawke?"

Marian panted for a moment before answering. Her hands clasped her knees as she bent forward, clearly winded. "Bela... I've been looking everywhere for you..."

Isabela crossed her arms and glared at her, irritated. "I told you I would be home again when I was finished here. You're blowing all the work I've been doing."

"Is it... the relic... again?" Hawke said, still gasping.

"Have you been looking in every warehouse in the shipyard looking for me? Maker's balls, Hawke, you've probably got every smuggler in Kirkwall out looking for you!"

The shorter rogue waved off her concerns. "Not **all** the warehouses… Maybe all the ones on the East side. And I wasn't spotted, don't worry. It's just... my lungs that are on fire this time... oh dear, I can't even pun very well..."

"I can't have you following me around like this! How many times have I -"

"Listen! I'm not - It's something important, really it is. I didn't know how to contact you and I needed you right away, tonight..."

"Another quest? Haven't you got a whole host of noble warriors at your fingertips for whatever do-gooding you've got planned?"

"Not an errand, Bela..." Hawke straightened, now that she had recovered somewhat from the night's chase. "It's Fenris."

Isabela froze. "What about him?"

Hawke grinned hugely. "It's showtime!"

"What?"

"It's a go. We are cleared to proceed. Well, ok, not entirely, but..."

"Blast it, Hawke, you have the worst timing I have ever seen." Isabela looked around. No one had followed them out, but it wouldn't be long before one of her new pals came looking for her. "We'd better have this conversation on the go," she said, grabbing Hawke's arm.

"I'm sorry, Bela, I thought you'd want to know right away," Hawke hissed back guiltily. She allowed her lover to drag her down the alley to the water, where the sound of the tide would drown out their conversation somewhat.

"It has to be tonight, that's the condition," Hawke continued, quieter. "If we wait any longer he might change his mind."

Isabela didn't reply. She was urging them along the harbor, stomping across the wooden planks towards solid ground ahead.

"I went to see him, and I - Oh Bela, I wish you'd been there with me, I got a good long look at him without his armor and he is **delicious**-"

"Shhh." Isabela held them still a moment while a group of shapes crossed their path, heading to their own shady destination.

Hawke, as she often did, rested her chin against her lover's shoulder, finding it this time stiff and unyielding. Isabela shrugged her off when they could move again and they walked the rest of the way to the dock's entrance in silence.

"I'm sorry if I spoiled your investigation, Bela. If we can just get back to Hightown I'll explain along the way."

"You said... Fenris agreed to go to bed with us? He really did?"

"Well, in a way." Hawke was smiling again, her excitement bubbling up in that adorable effervescent way of hers. "I asked him if he'd rather watch us have sex, you know, the way you said you used to do when you were in Orlais? When you had people cheering you on? I said we could do that instead, and he said he'd think about it, and then later he stopped me and said he'd do it, but only if we did it tonight. So I ran out and went looking for you and I said I'd be back in an hour and that was hours ago so we really need to hurry. Come on!"

Hawke grabbed her hand and started towards Hightown.

But Isabela resisted. "I... I don't know about this, Hawke."

Marian turned around slowly, a disbelieving look on her face.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe we shouldn't."

"… Are you KIDDING me?"

"I just think it might not be a good idea."

Now it was Marian's turn to be irritated.

"Isn't that what **I** was saying when we started all this?"

"Yes, and I should have listened to you, okay?"

"But we did it anyway! And now that he finally agrees, now you want to back off?"  
Hawke took a few steps back and put her hands on her hips, in a classic Hawke pose of disapproval. "This is about what happened at the Viscount's Keep, isn't it? What happened between you two?"

"Didn't he tell you?"

"He said to ask you."

"Ugh, of course he did."

"Did you have sex?"

"In Bran's office? No!"

"Something happened!"

"We only made out a little on top of Bran's desk!"

"What?"

"But he **freaked out** on me afterwards! He went all glowy and rage-y and he punched the wall and he said we needed to stop bothering him, and I said okay."

"You said what?"

"I said we'd leave him alone, okay?"

"When were you going to tell me about this?"

"I didn't know you were going to go over there while I was gone!"

"Well I did! And he's changed his mind!"

"Well I haven't!" Isabela lowered her voice, hoping Hawke would stop shouting. "He's a little too real for me, okay? He has an awful lot of... feelings, you know? I don't need any more of those."

"Oh good grief. Isabela, you said we were going to taunt him until he broke! And he broke! And now you want to abandon him? That's really shitty!"

"That's what I do." Isabela did her best impression of a jaunty smile. "Men are entertainment. When they aren't fun anymore, I move on. You **know** this about me, kitten."

"I know it. I don't have to like it. Not when it's one of our friends."

"I don't **need** this shit, get me? He wants to be moody and alone, fine. All I wanted was a little fun, not all this angsty crap. This isn't fun anymore, Hawke. Fenris is... he's like a stray cat; he'll either bite our heads off or follow us home. If we take him home now, we'll never get rid of him."

Hawke answered her steadily. "Maybe I'm all right with that."

That stopped Isabela's tirade short. "You what?"

"I support you, Bela, I want you to be free to do what you want. You always say that I'm free to take on other lovers if I want. Well, I want **this**. And I think you owe it to me."

"Fuck him then," Isabela said coldly. "I don't care."

"That's not what I want. I want it to be the three of us. Like we always said. Just try it, just this once. If it doesn't go well, that will be the end of it."

Isabela shook her head and stared up at the stars for a long moment. She hated, hated more than anything, to be pushed. Even if it was something she once wanted, even maybe still wanted, to some degree. Her strongest instinct at times like this was to dig in her heels and refuse.

But she was terrible at refusing Marian. Always had been, from the very moment Marian had first walked into the Hanged Man and smiled at her. Even without looking, Isabela knew exactly the look that was on her face, the set of her jaw. She would have that longing look in her eyes, the one whose intensity sent a chill down Isabela's spine and made her simultaneously want to run for the hills and throw the woman down to the ground and have her way with her.

"Damn it, Marian."

"Please, Bela?"

"..."

"Please."

"All right. All right! Fine. But just remember that I said this was a bad idea."

And that was the last thing either of them said on the way to Fenris's Manor.


	9. Chapter 9

When they arrived at Fenris's manor, it was considerably more than an hour since Marian had left him. When she banged at the door, no one answered.

Isabela directed her most powerfully incredulous expression at Hawke, hoping that perhaps now they could give up and go away. But once Hawke was into this stubborn sort of mood there was no dissuading her, and she was almost immediately setting upon the door with her lockpicks. Eventually she was successful, and the door creaked open into a dark and empty mansion.

Isabela peered skeptically into the darkness. "Perhaps he went to the Hanged Man. Let's go check."

"He'll be upstairs. I hope he hasn't given up on us." Tentatively, Hawke took Isabela's hand. "Thank you for coming," she said.

"It's all right, love," Isabela relented.

"I hate fighting with you."

"Was that a fight? That wasn't a fight."

"Whatever it was, I'm glad you're here now."

"Sure."

In the long walk to Hightown, Isabela had some time to think it over, and calm down. She was still apprehensive, but admittedly curious about what was about to happen. If it happened.

Hand in hand, Hawke and Isabela walked up the long stairway to the great hall and from there to the upper room where Fenris spent his time, where Hawke had left him hours before.

At first, there appeared to be no sign of him. The ornate armchair beside the fireplace, the one he generally occupied, was empty. But a fire blazed on the hearth, and much of the refuse that normally cluttered the place had been cleared away, leaving a long open space in front of the fire. A long, soft-looking fur had appeared, folded neatly and unobtrusively next to the armchair.

When Isabela's eyes adjusted to the light, she spotted Fenris, sitting almost entirely in shadow, just out of the firelight's reach.

He was looking steadily at them with an unreadable expression.

Beside him were three bottles of wine, one of them empty and a second half-full. Whether he had been drinking them to prepare for their arrival, or after concluding that they would not be coming, it was impossible to guess. Perhaps both in sequence.

He cleared his throat. "I was not sure you were coming."

Hawke stepped forward. "Sorry, Fenris. It took awhile to locate Isabela."

"Are you sure you want to be here? To do this?"

From his knowing stare, Isabela knew this last was directed at her. After what happened, now that she had seen some of what he was, did she still want to be a part of this?

"Sure," she answered flippantly. "I've got nothing better to do."

Hawke shot her a dirty look.

"Proceed, then."

_Hmph. Charming._ Isabela had heard worse come-ons than that, but not many. "Any requests?" she asked him, smirking.

Fenris shrugged, and settled back in his chair where he was almost invisible in the dim light.

"Fine." Isabela turned to Marian. "What would you like, kitten? It's your show."

"I- I don't know," she stammered, her eyes darting over to the shadows where Fenris sat.

_Great. Just great._

Had they made no plans for how this would go? Discussed expectations? Set boundaries? Even Hawke, who was so eager to do this, hadn't given a thought to what exactly would happen here. They should really have discussed it on the way over. Maybe if they hadn't argued about whether this would happen at all, they could have worked something out.

Why was nothing ever easy with these two? Isabela was accustomed to a much simpler arrangement. One where everyone came in with an itch to be scratched and left happy, and if they didn't, they would rarely see each other again if ever, so who cared? Here the stakes were considerably higher, which was not the sort of game Isabela excelled at.

Isabela tried her best to make out Fenris's expression in the shadows. As far as she could tell, he looked completely impassive, almost disinterested. She wondered again how Hawke had convinced him to do this. Did he really want them there?

It was his posture that convinced her otherwise. Fenris had a face for bluffing, always had. She had personally seen him blot out his own expressions with practiced ease, like with Hawke in Varric's suite, and the way he had cleared the desire from his face and left no trace behind. When she remembered that, and watched the way he was sitting, the way his hands fidgeted at his sides, she knew he was about as far from dispassionate as one could be. He was nervous. No, he was... eager. That was the word. He had some of that twitchy anticipation she had grown used to seeing in him before a battle, and the wariness that came with the possibility of injury. Though injury from what, she couldn't say.

Even Hawke, poor dear, looked incredibly nervous. In all likelihood it had not occurred to her until this very moment what it would really mean to have an audience. Awkwardness in the course of sex was very quickly forgivable, when there was so much pleasure with which to distract a lover from your shortcomings. Someone who was watching, and only watching, would be different. They would have absolutely nothing else to do but look at, and think about, all of the things you were doing. All of your physical flaws. All of the clumsiness and crudeness of your passion. It was a very vulnerable position to be in. Bless her; she looked like a rabbit staring down a crossbow.

A surge of affection swam through her at that moment, for both Hawke and Fenris. They were both of them counting on her to sail them through these waters.

Well, if there was one thing she could do, it was navigate a storm.

She smiled at her lover. "Let's start this with a kiss, then."

The long kiss that followed bolstered Isabela's confidence further. Hawke seemed to melt into her arms, her easy softness yielding to the pirate's demanding embrace. Her arms about the smaller woman's waist held her fast, even as her hands caressed the smooth fur along her back. Hawke's busy hands twisted in the Rivanni's hair, making encouraging little circles against the back of her neck as they kissed. Their tongues met and caressed in soft, long strokes.

A familiar sense of command and authority expanded within her, crowding out the uncertainty Isabela had brought to the manor.

This show may not have been her idea, but she would fulfill their expectations; oh yes. She'd give the elf a sight to remember, all right, and something Hawke would not soon forget.

Isabela released her lover with a reassuring smile and strode purposefully to the folded fur that had been so tempting her since she entered the room. It was even larger than she had guessed thick and creamy white. She purred happily as she pressed it to her cheek.

"So soft! What is it?"

Fenris was done talking, it seemed. He had just finished taking a pull directly from a wine bottle and stopped only to glower at her in that ferocious way of his.

"Ah! There! Keep doing that!" She laughed at him, freezing him in place with the palms of her hands like a magic spell. "That growly look. It's wonderfully inspiring."

That was when she knew she was completely in control of the situation, when Fenris settled back silently with a wary expression and just the slightest upward quirk to his lips.

Smirking, Isabela spread the lovely fur across the floor in front of the fire. She had an enchanting vision in mind of a naked Marian splayed against the fur and moaning in rapture.

This was going to take some work to accomplish, since the woman was wearing entirely too much clothing. She had dressed for action to go out looking for Isabela, and was covered nearly from head to toe in leather and metal. Her soft brown leather sleeves ended at the wrist in sleek black gloves that exposed only an index finger on either hand. Similarly, the same smooth brown hide concealed her thighs down to the metal bracers along her shins, and her heavy metal boots. Her black fox's jerkin was pleasingly form-fitting but had entirely too many fastenings, stays, and sashes for Isabela's taste - she preferred clothing designed for easy access. This getup drove Isabela crazy for the time it took to remove, as she had often complained in the past. She had to wonder if Hawke had chosen it on purpose tonight.

Marian was looking down at the white fur uncertainly. Isabela could see the wheels turning in her head. Should she sit down on the fur? Lie down on it? Take off her clothes first? Or should she be kissing her instead?

"Stop with the thinking, Marian," Isabela cautioned her fondly, crossing to her side of the rug.

"Easier said than done," she answered softly. Her eyes still darted to Fenris's corner.

Isabela caught her chin in her hands, redirecting Hawke's gaze. "Oh, I think I can distract you."


	10. Chapter 10

The kiss that followed was hungrier and deeper than the first, with the enticing work of Isabela's tongue driving Hawke to grind her hips promisingly against her.

Meanwhile, the Rivaini's hands went to work on untying and unfastening the arms and pouches from Hawke's torso. She did so with practiced ease, without once interrupting possession of the lady's mouth to look over her work. One by one they clattered to the bare floor - coins, lockpicks, a few small daggers, pouch for salves and poultices and at last the belt that held them all.

Hawke made some small noise of protest as she attempted to help her and was refused, her arms held down at her sides. This quickly turned into a pleased sort of hum when Isabela switched her attention to her exposed throat. The vulnerable soft skin that could be reached above her jerkin Isabela suckled and held against her teeth, making Marian shiver.

With a smooth metallic ring the pirate drew Hawke's long knives from behind her back, one by one, holding them up to glisten in the firelight before tossing them to the floor, shortly followed by their holster. Then she slapped Hawke's once-again-wandering hands away from her own snaps and buckles.

"Behave, kitten," she grinned at her.

"Who, me?"

"Just stand there and look beautiful, Hawke. Let me do all the work."

Still kissing her lover's throat, Isabela applied her nimble fingers to the many fastenings of Marian's jerkin. Isabela smoothed open the top of it most carefully, and stopped to loosen the leather undershirt, exposing the delicate collarbones and moving to caress them with her tongue. While tongue and lips were at work, her hands continued to open the tight jerkin, stopping to stroke the soft furs above her breasts as they traveled down. She could hear Marian sigh above her, arching into her touch.

Finally she reached the bottom of her jerkin and unbuttoned the soft leather beneath, slowly exposing a slice of pale skin down her center. As she reached the last button, she brought her teeth to bear, working the thread with her mouth as she drifted down to her knees. The button would not cooperate, so she bit it off. Isabela held it there between her lips for a moment, making sure Marian saw it there before she let it fall to the ground with a soft little ping.

Marian's aquamarine eyes were cloudy with lust, now, her lips parted, aching to be touched, to be taken.

But Isabela fully intended to take her time.

She pushed the palm of her hand inside the foxfur jerkin to travel the planes of Marian's muscular stomach, almost petting her, up and down, up and down. She smirked up at her wickedly as she did it, licking her lips. Her nose hovered just inches from Marian's pelvis.

With her off hand, a bit clumsily, she worked at Hawke's leather trousers, while her right arm continued to wander underneath Hawke's top. It was certainly more difficult to unbutton a woman's pants left-handed, but not impossible, and it gave her a nice excuse for teasing little touches.

Impatient, Marian interrupted her endeavors. She dropped to her knees with a little groan and began kissing the pirate in earnest. Her own hands pulled at Isabela's white shift, flipping it up to reveal lacy red smallclothes to the room in flashes.

Isabela chuckled and allowed her traveling hands to squeeze and pinch for a time before pushing her gently away. Then, with a hand on each shoulder, she turned Hawke around to face away from the fire.

"This is your best angle," she informed her.

"With my face turned away. Thanks a lot," she said indignantly. But she laughed. By now her nerves had transformed into a giddy excitement, were fuel for her building desire.

The pirate settled her onto the white rug and whispered into her ear.

"Stay just like that, my pet, and don't move."

Isabela stood up and circled her for a moment, letting her settle down. Then she stopped with Hawke between her and the shape of the man in the shadows, and crouched down to grasp her open trousers. With Marian kneeling before her on the soft fur, Isabela worked on easing her leather trousers around her considerable hips. Though loose-fitting in the legs, the leather hugged her backside and was nearly skin-tight. Such garments were not made with someone of such considerable assets in mind. Some amount of shimmying was generally required, but since Isabela had forbidden her to move, Marian just smirked while the pirate slowly peeled her trousers down.

Isabela was going to take her time undressing Marian, unwrapping the beauty like her very favorite present. In front of her very favorite audience. An appreciative one, at that - every time she stole a quick look at Fenris, she found his unblinking eyes glued to the two of them, captivated by her careful uncovering of Hawke's pale skin.

Maker, this was more fun than she could have imagined.

"You were right," Isabela whispered in her ear. "This is brilliant. You're an utter genius."

"That's what I'm saying," Hawke replied softly in a sing-song voice. "That's why I'm in charge, right?"

"Who's in charge? That sounds like a challenge." Isabela raised her voice to a low growl as she brought her teeth to the delicate skin behind Marian's opened jerkin. "In this room, kitten, I am the captain."

With that, she rolled the studded leather over her backside, using her trailing fingernails to pull her smallclothes down with it and reveal her luscious bare ass.

They both heard, and pretended not to hear, the sharp intake of breath from the elf, who leaned forward to drink in the sight.

Maker knows Isabela had appreciated that sight herself on many occasions. The perfect arc of her hourglass figure, the way her small waist swelled out so smoothly into alluringly wide hips. Her strong, thick thighs. The juicy roundness of each pert buttock, and that inviting cleft at the bottom that encouraged one to dive right in. If Hawke were only a little bolder, and didn't wear quite so many layers to conceal her astonishing figure, Isabela was certain that many a ribald tune or lewd poem would be composed in honor of her arse. Perhaps she would write some.

Isabela personally could not look upon the sight without putting a grasping hand on each thigh and burying her face in the little triangle of sensitive flesh at the top where the small of her back parted in two. She would nip that skin with her teeth and squeeze those scrumptious cheeks. This move never failed to make Hawke squeal and dissolve into moans.

But she would leave that sight for Fenris to contemplate right now, and work on revealing the rest of her. She left the trousers collapsed at Hawke's knees while pulling her upper armor off, careful not to get entangled with the clasps of her black leather gloves. She eased first one arm and then another through and flung the chestpiece aside. Then she eased the leather undershirt off, revealing first one creamy shoulder and then another and pushing the opened shirt down her arms until it too dropped to the floor.

Now her bare back was exposed, with the lovely line of symmetry curving all along it, interrupted only by the binding cloth that held her breasts.

As Isabela quested around her torso for the ragged end to the binding cloth, Hawke spoke up.

"Hey, this is a little unfair."

"What's that, pet?"

"Why am I the only one who's naked? When do I get to undress you?"

Isabela laughed, low and predatory. "I'm in charge. I get what I want. I want you, naked, on that fur, so I can devour you."

"Not that I'm against that but ohhhhhhhhhh" Hawke's objections were quickly swallowed by a long moan, as Isabela applied lips and teeth to her right shoulder and brought her hands around to clutch her backside. She pressed her midsection insistently against the fully-clothed pirate, seeking some relief from the pressure building up inside her from this maddeningly slow disrobing.

Those moans and cries were among Isabela's favorite rewards for a job well done. Marian's voice dropped an entire octave, from the light and airy banter she favored to a low, wanton growl. If she did her work well, Marian could be quite vocal, even screaming with pleasure.

For awhile she forgot her task in favor of stroking and clutching at Hawke's ass, watching their watcher over her lover's shoulder. Fenris appeared rooted to the spot; Isabela was certain that he had not moved at all for some time. It appeared unlikely that he would be joining in their fun. But the rise and fall of his shoulders from deep shuddering breaths and the smoldering look he was giving her told of the many and various things he wanted to do to the both of them, and for now, that would be enough.

Catching Fenris's eye, Isabela bared her teeth against the sensitive strip of skin between Marian's neck and shoulder, and knew the shiver that ran through him then without needing to see it.

Marian's head fell back rapturously at that, and Isabela took the opportunity to go to work on her bindings. She unwrapped her lovely breasts with reverence, biting her lips in anticipation. Marian disliked her breasts, thought they were much too small to be attractive and just large enough to be a nuisance. But they were perfect handfuls, and Isabela loved to stroke them. There - the last of the cloth unwound and Isabela bent down to gently kiss each nipple as Hawke leaned backwards against her gloved hands, her head still thrown back. She was posed like a sunbather into the light now, sitting back on her still-booted heels.

She was almost but not quite perfect. Isabela pulled back and contemplated her, naked but for leather gloves and boots, and her trousers pooled around her calves.

Marian looked back at her and grinned wickedly, this time exactly aware how sexy she looked. She felt like a sculpture before its artist, being made beautiful.

"Okay gorgeous, time to lie back."

Isabela offered her hands to Marian for balance as she brought her legs out from under her and then stretched them out in front of her. Then Hawke lay back against the rug, her hair a striking contrast against its light color. She smiled contentedly as the thick fur embraced her bare back, providing an additional sensual pleasure to the physical sensations she already enjoyed. She stretched her gloved hands above her head, and with a drowsy lavisciousness she offered her booted foot to Isabela for her attentions.

Smoothly the pirate eased the trousers, as well as her smalls, over the woman's boots and cast them aside, then raised one booted leg up to her chest and rested it there in one arm. The other arm reached down past the top of the boot to Marian's bare thigh to caress it up and down, enjoying the contented sounds she made in response. She raised the trapped leg even higher, enjoying the view of Marian's exposed snatch. Her careful hands approached but did not touch the building warmth between her legs. She ran her hands all up and down the smooth skin of the rogue's muscular legs.

"Bela," the Lady Hawke breathed in gratitude.

With an easy flick, the boot opened and pulled away from her leg, thumping onto the floor behind them. Isabela lavished this newly revealed skin with kisses, from ankle up past the knee, as she lowered it to the floor. She repeated the process with the other leg, stroking a now-trembling thigh until Marian began to squirm in earnest against the furs. Finally she removed the left boot and embraced her muscular calve with both hands, stroking it up and down.

Even Isabela was nearing her point of endurance, looking down at the lovely Marian naked and vulnerable beneath her. Her arms above her head stretched her torso so appealingly, presenting her perfect little breasts like a delicious banquet before her. Her flat stomach, her parted lips, her pleading aquamarine eyes. She could wait no longer.

Settling her leg down to the rug, Isabela crawled up Marian's body and straddled her waist with her own muscular legs. "You look good enough to eat, kitten," she murmured before descending for a kiss.

Marian's lips were needy as she drew her lover down against her, until Isabela was lying fully pressed against her nude body. In deep, long kisses, she drew the breath from her until the Rivaini was gasping and trembling herself. Though she was considerably bulkier than her lover, Hawke was strong, and could hold all of her weight fully. She clung to the pirate and pressed against her with all of that strength. Isabela soon could think of nothing else but her strong body and her soft lips. She barely noticed when Hawke drew her own dueling knives and threw them aside.

The room seemed to spin slowly around them in the firelight as they melted there together.

Panting, Isabela pulled away from the kiss and set upon Hawke's breasts once again, lapping and nipping at them with renewed vigor. She sucked the pert little nipples into her mouth and rolled them against her tongue. They both moaned and sighed together now at the heat their bodies made together, which surely filled and warmed the whole room around them.

Still caressing her breasts, Isabela's lips traveled to Hawke's flat belly, treasuring the softness of her skin and the firmness of the muscle beneath it. Hawke was starting to writhe beneath her, urging her downwards, and surely she made a sight for their voyeur. Her arms still encased in black leather gloves and thrashing above her head, almost beckoning towards him, her back arching and exposing her bare breasts before his gaze.

At times like this Isabela could only wish for more hands. If Fenris would only offer his assistance... but perhaps it was better to work up to that, even if only to prolong such exquisite suffering. They would all surely dissolve in such passion, and melt away to nothing.

With that thought she brought her lips to Marian's jutting hip bone, her tongue providing pressure. The pirate's body settled between Hawke's legs, which rose up around her as she kissed her way from one side of her pelvis to the other.

"Please, Bela..." Marian urged in a breathy voice.

Deliberately she moved down lower, looking up at Marian while she hovered above the downy black fur between her legs, chewing on her lip. "If you could just see yourself," she purred up at her. "You are absolutely dripping."

Marian's eyes pleaded with her, her entire face contorted with frustration and pleasure in equal measure.

"You delicious vixen. Can you smell it, your scent? I bet Fenris can smell you from there..."

Marian groaned and closed her eyes. "Please please please" she whispered, unable to bear it any longer.

Isabela dipped her head down and licked her, a long lap all along the lips of her cunt up to the nub above. Marian cried out at the touch, and cried out again when it left her. Then with her hands she parted those lips and lapped all along their inner rim, making Marian gasp and whimper. She would not last long at this rate. Isabela left her most sensitive area alone for now and dipped her tongue into her opening, circling around it, tasting her, before darting her clever tongue in and out rapidly. She switched between the two motions, circling and thrusting, while holding her open with gentle fingers. Occasionally she stopped to blow on the aching nub that would grant her release, making Hawke's pelvis thrust helplessly.

She was loosing track of the many moans and pleading half-words that Marian called to her, lost in her pleasure.

Finally she brought her tongue up to Marian's aching clit and slid two fingers inside her cunt. With no mercy, she thrust them in and out and sucked at her clit and taunted it with her tongue and teeth until Hawke was thrusting up into her face frantically.

Her whole writhing body stiffened into a tense cord of ecstasy, arching up away from the floor, when Marian finally came with a shout.

When she sank back onto the floor, Isabela wiped her mouth, licked her lips, and came back up to straddle her. She liked to watch Hawke in the afterglow, when she was relaxed and blissful. Marian often tended to curl up like a happy cat after sex and drift off to sleep. Her eyes were already half-closed. The pirate wondered if she would have to wake her to leave.

Then she pounced.

Isabela found herself pushed back onto Hawke's lap when the woman sat up quickly, and held her there.

Marian was laughing. "Now it's my turn," she said.

Before Isabela could formulate a response, Hawke had already worked her fingers under her shift. The advantage of wearing no pants, easy access. She pressed her fingers to the lacy undergarment.

"You're all ready for me, aren't you?" she said. The long build-up had been just as effective for Isabela as for Marian, for she was sopping wet before she got there.

Isabela's control fled her at that instant, as Hawke pushed her smalls aside and worked her fingers inside her slick cunt. Rather than struggle, her head fell back and her eyes fluttered closed, and she froze there, trapped by Hawke's hands.

They were intertwined now, with Isabela still straddling her, but Marian firmly in command. Isabela had to cling to her for balance as her body started to rock to the rhythm of Hawke's thrusts. She rocked back and forth, her mouth falling open, all sense fleeing. She was not vocal in her pleasure, her amorous gasps the only sound she made.

Hawke increased the speed of her thrusts, working her fingers roughly in and out. With her other hand she pressed against her pelvis steadily. Isabela swayed faster, the pressure building. Her orgasm was bearing down upon her, huge, like an enormous wave.

When she was nearly there, when it was rising beneath her and lifting her up, her eyes fell open and she found him in the dark, found his green watching eyes and their desperate longing, and her lips formed his name silently and she shook to pieces there in Hawke's lap and collapsed against her.

They held each other for some time, breathing hard, until the sweat of their bodies cooled and the silence grew thick.

Hoarsely, Fenris finally spoke.

"That was incredible," he said, his voice filled with awe.

"You're telling me," Isabela answered, smiling.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's note: thank you for your comments and messages. They mean a lot to me. **_

_**Any attempts at Arcanum are courtesy of Google Translate Latin. **_

It was obvious to everyone that something had changed. There was never any kind of announcement or declaration, just a shift in the air that made the whole company, Varric in particular, breathe a sign of relief.

One day, Fenris was avoiding everybody, and the girls were chasing him like a mabari on a rabbit. The next, the three were inseparable. There was nowhere you could find any one of them away from the other two, whether in the Hanged Man, out on the street, or out in the wilds.

It was a bit strange, though; Fenris kept his distance, and if any physical affection passed between the girls and him Varric was thoroughly unable to detect it. They didn't even seem to talk very much. Hawke and Isabela cavorted like newly minted lovers, and Fenris watched over them like their own personal bodyguard.

So were they sleeping together or not? And was this a temporary diversion or something more permanent? Varric would normally be doing his wild speculating with Isabela, but she was being oddly tight-lipped.

Which was in itself a sort of miracle.

"Come on, Rivanni, spill. If you bagged the elf I'm pretty sure the whole city would know about it by now. So what's going on?"

"It's going," was all she would say, or some other wickedly vague reply.

Something that the notoriously open-book pirate queen would want to keep to herself was bound to be fascinating indeed.

The only sort of confirmation Varric would get from anybody was from the elf himself, when he managed to catch him alone at the bar, one night when the girls had disappeared into the crowd.

(Disappeared to Varric's eyes, anyway. He was admittedly challenged in the height department. He would guess, from the watchful glances Fenris cast about the room, that the elf didn't lose sight of the two of them for a single moment.)

"So." Varric settled down next to him. "I hear my services are no longer required."

"Did you?" Fenris fidgeted with his drink for a moment, and then smiled a little. "I suppose they aren't."

Varric grinned broadly. "Glad to hear it, Broody. Really."

And that was all he would hear of their arrangement, at least until long after the fact.

* * *

In reality, things were proceeding very slowly. Nearly a week passed after the first night at Fenris's manor without a repeat performance. They had parted happily that night with the idea of more to come, but all three became reluctant to broach the issue right away.

Hawke, for her part, had grown accustomed to Isabela's comings and goings and her disinterest in staying for breakfast, and was inclined to go with the flow. She did not want to push either one of them. Especially since they could very well disappear on her, should she go too far.

Despite this, a sort of routine was emerging; one that even her longtime affair with Isabela had not induced. With no prior arrangement, both Isabela and Hawke would wander to Fenris's manor in the mornings, and he would emerge to greet them in his tetchy way, and they would go about the day's business together. To the market, or to visit one of their friends, or to one of Hawke's little "errands" around the city. It was perfectly ordinary, in no way different from their previous adventures. Isabela would tell her bawdy stories, and Fenris would make dry commentary over their exaggerations. Hawke would babble about this and that, and bicker continuously with Fenris over his shitty attitude towards her other friends. Where any of them found work, it was efficiently taken care of. These days they were quite busy.

It was the same, but entirely different. A sort of electricity hung in the air like an exclamation point, making Marian more animated than usual, even giddy. Isabela's typically confident manner expanded into an outright swagger. And Fenris, although still guarded, was more relaxed and conversational than they had ever seen him.

The protectiveness that had emerged from him startled both women. Thoroughly accustomed to watching their own backs in battle, the two rogues had always bristled at any suggestion that they could not handle themselves. Which made it all the more startling how _exciting_ it was, the way the elven swordsman leapt to their defense like a coiled spring snapping.

On one occasion, when a dog lord managed to slice Isabela's arm in an ambush, Fenris had reacted by cutting the attacker in half, neatly, with one emphatic stroke. **In half.**

Isabela had blinked up at him, then, before climbing back to her feet. It was only a shallow cut. She would hardly be bothered to dress it; her arms were densely crisscrossed with such marks from her long history of brawling. But the small bloom of red blood made the elf's face twist in anger, and made him curse in his strange language and exact bloody revenge on their attackers.

It heated the very blood in her veins, that look.

When the last of them dropped to the ground, relieved of their innards or their heads, Isabela grabbed Fenris's arm, risking the surprised flinch he made in response.

"Come tonight," she ordered him emphatically. "Hawke's place. Come tonight."

* * *

When he appeared at the Hawke estate, Isabela and Marian were sharing a chair in the library, exchanging long, drowsy kisses. He hesitated in the doorway a moment, watching. The library was large and bright, lit from all angles, and had no shadows for him to conceal himself in. It made him uneasy.

Hawke straightened when she saw him, reaching out to him around the Rivaini's body where she sat perched in her lap. "Come in! And shut the door, for heaven's sake, we can't have Sandal wandering in here. Or, Maker forbid, my mother."

Isabela groaned, with a painful expression. "Can we not mention your mother at a time like this? Major mood-killer."

"I seek only to prevent the biggest mood-killer of all - my mother dropping dead of shock at the sight of her baby girl in a... mature situation."

Hurriedly, Fenris shut and locked the door. "Does she know? About…" (he gestured to Isabela) "your relationship?"

At the same moment, Isabela was saying, "Relationship is a strong word", and Hawke was saying, "Let's stop talking about my mother now, pleasethankyou."

They glanced at each other, and then to Fenris.

"Sit with us," they requested in unison.

"Huh," he huffed as he approached. "I daresay your seat will not accommodate any more weight," he pointed out, and sank into an armchair opposite them.

"Always practical," Hawke said.

"Silly," Isabela said. "Furniture sacrificed to lovemaking died for a good cause."

Fenris sat back in the armchair, trying and failing to become inconspicuous. The two ladies were focused totally on him. He would really rather they turn back to each other.

But they were going to insist on talking with him, it appeared. Hawke's legs remained draped over the pirate's, her finery hanging loosely around her, but her hands stilled themselves, interrupted halfway down removing the buckled leather straps from Isabela's arm.

"We wanted to talk about your involvement with us."

His expression went curiously blank at this, but disappointment could not help but leech into his words. "Am I... unwelcome?"

"Oh, no no no," Hawke reassured him. "Absolutely not. We actually wanted to talk about you doing more with us."

Fenris glared. "That was not the invitation I accepted. I agreed to watch."

Isabela cut in. "I thought we should renegotiate. Seeing as I wasn't consulted last time."

He folded his arms across his chest, looking frustrated.

"What Isabela means to say," Hawke put in, giving a pointed look to Isabela, "is that boundaries are a good thing to establish, if we are going to continue seeing each other."

"That sounds wise," Fenris admitted, staring at the floor.

"We would like to do more with you. More of what we did at your manor. A lot more." Here Marian and Isabela private smiles, clearly at some earlier conversation they had shared. "But it would really help to know what you're okay with, and what you're not okay with."

"I don't... entirely know," he admitted. His arms came up from the chair, and he folded his bare hands pensively just in front of his mouth (conveniently blocking much of his expression). "Since I left my captivity. I have never allowed anyone too close. When my markings were created the pain was… extraordinary, and the memory lingers."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Hawke inquired, a little surprised.

"I may well have had lovers before the lyrium ritual, but I do not remember them."

Isabela, by agreement staying quiet for now, noted his cleverly evasive wording, something Hawke was not picking up on.

Hawke went on, "Haven't you wanted to be with someone?"

"No," he said frankly. "There were other matters to contend with, when I was on the run. It was not something I gave much thought to. Until now I have preferred to be alone."

Hawke perked up considerably at this.

"Until now... so did you enjoy what we did together?"

He huffed with irritation. "Must we discuss this? Surely you know the answer to that."

"I don't," she said sincerely. "You haven't said a word about it since then."

"Of course I enjoyed it. It was… a gift."

"… A gift?"

"Yes." Clearly he was not inclined to explain further. "I will remember it always," he added.

"I - we - are very glad you enjoyed yourself. Because I thought that was pretty amazing." Hawke smiled at him a little shyly. "Having you so close by while I was, well, pretty much on display... with you wanting to be there, to see me... it made me feel very beautiful."

Fenris replied with an oddly irritable tone, "You are very beautiful."

He found this perfectly obvious, so much so that he felt utterly silly saying it.

"Thanks, um, I think." She exchanged yet another look with Isabela. "Would you like to touch me then?"

Again with the obvious questions. "_Cur torques me? _Stop this, Hawke."

"Because you can, you know. Any time you want. You could have joined in then, that night. And you could have me now. All of me. Tonight." She tilted her head to one side, evaluating his expression, and then added: "The same for Isabela, I assure you. If you'd rather."

"S_ermone hoc facit me vis ego adduxit vinum,_" he muttered, shaking his head.

Hawke ignored his retreat into Arcanum. "Can you at least tell us why not?"

He threw up his hands. "No. I cannot. There are all kinds of reasons why not. And you should have reasons of your own. You two have every reason in the world to have nothing to do with me. You ignore those reasons, why I cannot imagine. You would probably ignore mine as well."

Hawke... _kind of_followed that statement. "How do you know until you try?"

"You only want to know my qualms so you can argue them with me. So I do not wish to discuss them," he told them both testily.

Isabela spoke up. "Plan B, kitten."

"Oh, all right," she acquiesced, laying her head on the pirate's shoulder. "I don't think this is getting anywhere."

Isabela addressed Fenris head on, an amused sort of smirk on her lips. "I let Hawke try it her way, now we're going to do it mine."

Fenris rested his head on his left fist and steeled himself. "Whether *we* are doing anything is yet to be determined."

"Right, so here are the terms. Option 1: you go home, sit there alone and get drunk, and we stay here and have incredible athletic sex all over this room. Without you. I don't think you'll like Option 1 very much."

"It depends on what the other options are," he said darkly.

"Option 2: you can stay. But you have to give us something."

Fenris felt his head was fairly spinning already, trying to stay ahead of this conversation. A part of him still wanted these two to forget all about him, leave him alone. Another part didn't want that at all.

"What do you want from me?"

"We play a little game."

"I don't like games," he said tiredly.

"You may like this one. The only rule is that we'll do whatever you say."

"... that's all?"

"That's all. But we won't do anything if you don't instruct us. So you have to tell us what to do."

Hawke broke in. "And you have to tell us what you think of what we're doing, if we're doing it right."

"Right," Isabela agreed.

Fenris raised an eyebrow at both of them. "You want me to talk to you while you're having sex."

"Right."

"May I ask why?"

"Because you have an incredibly sexy voice and we find it very… motivating."

They were being silly again. He sighed. "I suppose that's acceptable."

"Excellent. It starts now."

Isabela sat up a little straighter as Hawke slipped off her lap to sit chastely beside her.

They watched him expectantly.


	12. Chapter 12

Fenris sat back in his chair and glared at Isabela and Hawke.

This was ridiculous, and inane, and almost certainly Isabela's idea. She enjoyed watching him squirm.

Bad enough that he was no longer in his own home, where he felt more comfortable, and in a blasted library of all places, and one where the cruel lighting would be unkind to his scarred appearance and there were no places to sit except directly face-to-face with the two of them. As if that weren't enough, they wished him to _talk_. Not fade into a blessed silence and concentrate on the fantastical sight of the two of them together. No, he would have to come up with things to _say_. Surely this was cruel and unusual punishment.

And they expected him to **command **them? That thought sent unpleasant reverberations through a part of his mind where he rarely ventured, where under lock and key he kept his most terrible memories.

He closed his eyes a moment, and willed himself to remain calm. This was a small thing they asked of him. Especially in comparison to what they offered.

He did recall that Isabela, in their previous encounter, had entirely revealed Hawke's naked body but removed none of her own clothing. This could be a chance to rectify that.

When he opened his eyes again, the girls tittered nervously.

"We're waiting," Isabela reminded him.

"Fine, fine. Take off her necklace."

"Which one of us..?"

"Hawke. Take off Isabela's necklace."

Isabela looked surprised. Her predatory, satisfied look faded slightly.

Hawke, meanwhile, looked quite cheerful. "Ooh, that's an idea. I rarely see her without it."

She turned to her lover and reached her hands up and around her neck. Slowly and tenderly, they brushed across her shoulders and brushed back her hair.

At first, Isabela appeared to freeze. Then, obligingly, she turned her head and lifted her dark hair, and Hawke began to work at the clasp.

"It's so heavy," she said as she pulled it off. "I don't know how you wear this all the time."

"I like to know it's there," Isabela answered vaguely. She watched as Hawke set the necklace on the nightstand. "Now what, Fenris?"

Fenris noted a thin, faint line that crossed her collarbone - some sort of scar.

Best not let on that he'd noticed. She appeared eager to move on.

"Earrings," he said.

The golden ovals were removed, one at a time, by a smiling Hawke.

Isabela still looked a little uncertain. This wasn't what she had been anticipating. "I don't think you understand this game, elf. We can do whatever you want, and you have me taking off my jewelry...?"

"I wanted to see what you would look like without it."

Strangely, Isabela seemed to feel more naked without her jewelry than she did without her clothes. Which made him feel a bit guilty.

It was undeniably pleasant, though, to see the uninterrupted plane of her chest leading up to her soft throat. That beautiful dark skin. Maker forgive him, he wanted to see more of it. All of it.

Oh, this was a cunning game after all. Clever Isabela.

Hawke, taking a little initiative, kissed the Rivaini's left earlobe once she had finished removing the gold earrings. Isabela pushed her off, lightly. "No jumping ahead, kitten."

"No, no," he cut in. And had to swallow right away, his mouth was so dry. "She can do that."

"Do **what?**" Isabela said pointedly.

"Is the goal of this game to irritate me? You're winning." Then he acceded. "Hawke, you may kiss her ear. As you were already doing."

He watched the flash of pink tongue slipping out to capture Isabela's ear lobe with very, very close attention, and wondered if human ears were as sensitive as his. It seemed to do _something_for Isabela, who sighed as the smaller woman sucked the delicate earlobe between her teeth. That same action would make a mess of him, if Hawke were to...

(Fenris cut that line of thinking off rapidly.)

"Unlace her shift," he said next.

Hawke released Isabela's ear. "I knew this was going to be fun."

Although the proximity of the two of them rattled his nerves somewhat, it was admittedly a pleasure to be allowed to stare with such a clear, close view. He could see Isabela's dark eyelashes flutter when Hawke's hands ran over her breasts. He could stare at the downy hairs at the nape of Hawke's neck.

To be permitted to see this was a privilege he was still not accustomed to.

Hawke loosened the laces at the top of Isabela's cleavage first, exposing even more of her lovely breasts. Though large, they appeared to be firm and pert. Surely her corset aided that effect; he would see for certain soon enough. Fenris had spent a lot more time than he wanted to admit envisioning her naked breasts. As anyone with even a passing interest in breasts would do, faced with such a paragon of femininity.

But, maddeningly, Hawke suddenly switched to the bottom laces, dropping to the floor as she did so. She was removing the laces altogether, pulling up from the bottom of Isabela's corset.

Isabela was antsy, sitting still like this. "Can I help her with that?"

"... No."

"If you are going to leave me sitting here with nothing to do, you can at least talk to me."

Hawke threaded the laces up another inch, working up the Rivaini's stomach.

"You know, any number of men have dreamed of seeing this much of me," Isabela continued, with an alluring smile. "Does it live up to expectations?"

"You are... different from what I imagined."

"Imagined?" she teased him. "Happy to hear you have an imagination after all. Different how?"

This conversation frustrated him. He knew no way to explain how different they both were from everything in his admittedly limited experience.

"You... talk more. You laugh and joke."

Isabela gave him a disapproving look, informing him that had been his opportunity to compliment her beauty.

Still, it was the thing that had surprised him about Isabela and Hawke. They were unlike any examples of such coupling that he had seen. This in particular had stirred his thoughts in the week since their encounter.

"Is that unusual? That we enjoy each other?"

"So vocally, yes. From what I have seen in Tevinter, it is not common." He thought for a moment, and then asked: "Is it because you are women?"

Now it was Isabela's turn to giggle. "It's because Hawke can't stop talking for a single moment," she explained.

When Hawke made an annoyed sound and glared up at her, she petted her hair affectionately. "Sorry, kitten, but it's true."

"Says the one doing all the talking," Hawke complained lightly, before returning to her task.

To Fenris, Isabela continued, "No, not all women are like that. It's different with different people. Depends on the person."

"You are gentle with each other..." Fenris continued. "That was striking to me. Even when you are more forceful, you are gentle. No... you are generous."

"What were you expecting?"

"Taking. Taking your pleasure from another. This isn't like that. It is more like... play. I have not seen that before," he said thoughtfully.

As if on cue, Hawke reached the top of Isabela's shift and pulled the laces through. The pirate's cleavage deflated, but only slightly, once her corset hung open. Hawke spread open the cloth covering Isabela's breasts, and they were exposed.

Fenris couldn't fully see them, though, because Hawke had descended upon them first, lavishing the soft skin with kisses and caresses. Her body between them blocked him entirely.

"You are bad at following directions," he told her, and could not help smiling.

She chuckled, and sank back to the floor between Isabela's knees. "Sorry, it's hard to resist."

He saw exactly what she meant. Isabela's breasts were spectacular. They looked so soft. Her dark nipples, in particular, tempted him to hardness. The skin around them was unblemished, perfect, and they were so perfectly placed at the peak of the round swell of each breast. To feel them hardening between his lips, against his tongue, he would give almost anything. For a moment he was almost dizzy with longing.

He kept his voice firm. "Hawke... touch them. With your hands. Let me see."

Staying in a kneeling position, she lifted her hands up to caress Isabela's breasts, lifting them, squeezing them, massaging them into new shapes. The contrast of their skin tones made Hawke's fingers even more visible against the supple skin she stroked.

The Rivanni had gone very quiet, leaning back against the chair with a drowsy expression. He could see by the rise and fall of her chest that her breathing was heavy. Her golden eyes were locked onto his face, and the intensity of her gaze was truly stunning. She looked like she wanted to eat him alive.

"Kiss them, Hawke," Fenris commanded in a low, urgent growl.

The rogue rose up between the pirate's knees and brought her lips to the pirate's left breast, kissing her way around it. Meanwhile, her left hand squeezed at the right breast. Her hand looked small against it. Then Hawke found her nipple and stayed there, her lips moving against the delicate skin.

Isabela's mouth opened and closed again, with no sound coming out. Her eyes drifted almost closed, but Fenris could still see golden irises glittering at him from black-rimmed slits. He could vaguely see Hawke continuing her work below, switching her mouth to the other breast, stroking and caressing with her other hand.

He wanted to urge her to do it faster, more. Do for her what he could not.

There was so much more he wanted to see. He wanted to see Isabela's thigh-high boots stripped off slowly, to caress every inch of her powerful thighs. He wanted every last buckled strap from her strong brown arms, so that Hawke could kiss her from shoulder to fingertip. He wanted those gloves to come off to bare her clever hands.

But right now, more than anything, he wanted to see her in ecstasy.

"Her smallclothes," he said, unsteadily this time. "Show them to me."

Rather than simply flip it up, Hawke pulled Isabela's shift over her head, the pirate leaning forward to aid her. All at once she was revealed to him, all but her long boots and her smallclothes. All of her beautiful skin. Scarred as it may be with what he knew were knife wounds from her many duels, for him she was perfect. She had a gold piercing of some kind in her belly that glinted in the light. And she wore the red lace smalls that had featured heavily in his thoughts since he first saw them a week ago.

The room swam in front of his eyes for a moment.

His mind was crowded with (urges) images of what he wanted to do to her, what he would have _Hawke_do to her, so many that it was hard to settle on just one. It was hard to think at all, with his body ready to lunge forward entirely on its own and throw Isabela to the floor.

He almost forgot to issue another command to Hawke, who he could feel was watching him expectantly. She stayed kneeling before him on the floor, not doing the obvious and removing the Rivaini's smallclothes, waiting for him to speak again. Could she not know what he wanted her to be doing?

"Take them off," he commanded sharply, without looking at her.

The harshness of his own voice surprised him.

It jarred loose an image of another man, a man in shadow, sitting in a chair above the three of them, issuing commands of his own. Using them to enact his desires.

His eyes snapped shut at that, and every part of Fenris recoiled.

Faintly, he could hear Hawke saying something, but her words were blurred together. Sweet Hawke. Who never complained when he snapped at her, who had been nothing but endlessly patient and kind with him.

_What was he doing?_

There were the sounds of Hawke cheerfully obliging his order. The chair creaked as Isabela shifted her weight. There was a pleasant low murmur between the two lovers that was tender even as it was barbed with lust. He felt it thrum in his groin, his body still reacting to them even as his skin crawled at his own behavior.

He hung his head, then, and his hair slid over his eyes.

He wasn't sure how much time went by before he heard Hawke call out his name.

He opened his eyes to see her still kneeling on the floor between Isabela's knees, but turned around to look up at him with concern. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"No." He tented his fingers in front of his face once more, and forced the words out. "This isn't right. To sit above you and issue... commands... I do not want this."

"It's a game, Fenris," Isabela said. Her expression was... complicated. Was she annoyed with him? Angry? Something else? He could not tell.

"To me it is not a game."

Hawke, as always, was trying to be helpful. "Don't think of it as a command. Think of it as a... request."

"Don't patronize me," he countered her.

"I'm sorry," Hawke said, softly, her eyes downcast.

Fenris closed his eyes again and tried to bring himself back under control.

"We just want to know what you want," she tried to explain.

"What I want..." Fenris echoed her, not able to finish that thought.

What his treacherous body wanted was one thing. The rest of him was another matter. Indecision paralyzed his mind, and his heart pounded in his chest.

There seemed to be no way through this. Certainty eluded him, as it always did in his present life. He could not have said for certain what he wanted now, nor how to even begin to explain the problem.

The things he really wanted were for _later_, at some undefined moment in the future when everything would make more sense. When he had killed his master and could really begin to live. There were many things that he wanted for this _later_. Until then he was only doing the things he already knew how to do: wielding a sword, living in Danarius's manor. Everything else was doubt and confusion.

Someday, when Danarius was dead, he would be a new person, a whole person. Someone who could have his own desires without worrying they were tainted or twisted, and be able to act on them without fear. That person could be worthy of Hawke and Isabela.

But he had no idea how to get to _there _from _here_.

Here, his pulse was racing out of control and adrenaline was kicking in. He needed to go. Away. Now.

"I need air," he said abruptly.

He did his best to ignore the bewildered reactions of Isabela and Hawke, and he fled.


	13. Chapter 13

Fenris got as far as the entryway before he saw anything at all. In a great rush Hawke's manor flashed before his eyes until he was at the door with his hand on the latch, and he stopped. He stared at his trembling hand at the door, only a second away from yanking it open.

He could not bring himself to go through it.

Fenris backed away. He sat down hard and ran his hands over his hair, over his face, and then pounded on the bench below him in frustration.

_What was wrong with him?_This was not a darkspawn invasion; there were no slavers at his back. There were only two beautiful women who, for some unfathomable reason, wanted him. (Who were probably now realizing that he was a deranged person.)

Why should he not simply take their offer and let them do what they will with him? They had not quickly grown bored of teasing him, as he thought they would. They did not seem in danger of changing their minds. Though he would still be only a temporary diversion for the couple, his reward would be considerable.

Would it be worth the difficulty, and the complications it would bring to his life in Kirkwall, for something that would not last?

And there was another danger. Though he felt he had restrained himself admirably thus far, the intrusion of past events into his thoughts back there in the library had frightened him. Clearly he was not entirely in control of himself. Perhaps he would not be able to contain his depravities after all.

He wanted nothing of the Imperium to touch Isabela or Hawke in any way. Even if that included him, if he was not entirely free of its corruption.

Fenris forced himself to breathe slower and more deeply, to return to calmness.

He wanted them. They wanted him. It should be simple. But nothing was simple, not since the day he had walked away from his life as a slave.

He rested his head against the wall behind him, feeling foolish.

He had let Hawke draw him into this. After watching the two of them together, there was no way back. Now he knew exactly what they offered.

He had spoken truly when he called it a gift. It was a beautiful memory, one for him to cling to in his darker hours. Now they had given him yet more, and they offered still more to come. To go back to solitude after this would be... difficult.

He shouldn't. He knew he shouldn't. Not until he was sure of himself. If he could persuade them to wait, he could resolve his situation and be free to do as he wished.

But what if Danarius never came for him? What if he sent only endless waves of lackeys and stayed forever out of his reach? Would he have to live like this indefinitely?

Hawke and Isabela had been patient with him, but they would not wait forever.

He shook his head. Foolish. He was a foolish man, to even entertain this notion.

But he was deciding to be foolish, apparently.

With a rushing feeling not unlike jumping off a cliff, his hands were already unbuckling his chest plate, before he even realized what he was doing. He worked the last fastening and pulled it off him, leaving the black shirt he wore beneath it. The plate smashed to the floor with a satisfying metallic racket.

It was not nearly the unveiling that the girls had done for him, but he had to start somewhere.

No more half measures. It was sink or swim.

Fenris took a deep breath and walked back into the library, leaving his armor discarded on the floor.

* * *

When Fenris returned to the library, Isabela had already redressed herself, and the girls sat together with their arms around each other, much as he had found them when first he arrived, only now their embrace was glum and disappointed.

He returned to his empty chair in a sudden rush, as Hawke and Isabela looked up at him in surprise.

"I'm back," the elf said unnecessarily.

"I can see that," Isabela said coolly. But when she noticed that his armor was gone, she could not help looking him over with new interest.

Hawke nudged her openly, in case she hadn't seen it yet. "Your armor!"

"I left it outside," he said, again stating the obvious, and stared at the floor a little sheepishly.

"I wasn't sure it actually comes off," Isabela said, her voice covered in frost.

Ah. Right. He had left her naked in front of him, with no explanation. Not any that would justify his actions, at any rate.

"I am truly sorry for walking out," he said contritely, still studying the floor. "I... I had to think it over."

"It's all right," Hawke said, reassuringly. She was pleased enough that he had returned without anyone chasing after him. Returning without his chest plate was even more promising, when he was so rarely without it.

"It isn't all right. I apologize."

Isabela was not quite meeting his eyes, but her expression softened somewhat.

"If you are still willing," he offered hesitantly, "I would like to continue."

Hawke exchanged glances with her lover. It was really up to her. Though her lover would never say so, she was pretty sure the elf had hurt her feelings. "Is it all right, Bela?"

Isabela sighed, and shrugged with exaggerated casualness. "If you want, kitten."

Which basically decided it. Because as they both knew, Hawke very much did.

"What were you thinking, Fenris? Shall we go back to what we were doing?" Hawke asked him.

He took several breaths to decide his answer. "Would you... sit beside me?"

Hawke was delighted with this.

She bounced up to her feet and flashed an excited grin to Isabela. She just barely managed to contain herself enough to settle onto the seat next to him in a fairly civilized manner.

They just fit; the chair was not large but they were both slender, except for Hawke's wide hips. One of which was now pressed right up against his in a decidedly pleasant way.

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Hawke studying the planes of his torso without the added bulk of his spiky armor and resisting the urge to run her hands over it. Fenris contemplating her full lips in a way he had never allowed himself to before.

"May I kiss you?" he asked her sincerely.

Part of her wanted to laugh at this, and joke that since he'd already seen her naked and watched her have sex with her girlfriend and everything, the permission to touch her was well established. But it was sort of sweet, so she simply nodded.

She felt his fingers rest tentatively against her cheek. Then he moved in and touched his lips to hers.

The touch was not a flash of lightening but a long, slow roll of thunder. With a sweet, shared breath they moved together, drawing closer. Their hands rose spontaneously and grasped at each other's clothing. Sweetly, insistently, they moved under the same spell.

Isabela watched the two of them kiss. At first it was only lips, tasting each other, slow and relaxed. Then their pace quickened, mouths opened, and the kiss grew deeper. She had tasted both of them, and knew how they would be together. Him hungry, possessive, questing with his tongue; her teasing, playful, biting his lower lip until he growled under his breath.

"Excuse me," Isabela interrupted them.

Their lips parted so they could turn to Isabela. She had come to kneel on the floor in front of the two of them, looking put out.

"I'm getting lonely down here," she said pointedly.

"Greedy," Hawke admonished her cheerfully. "You've had all of my attention tonight up to now."

"But when do I get a kiss?" she asked Fenris.

"You've had one already, as I recall," Hawke pointed out.

But Fenris released his grip on Marian and said, "Now, if you like."

The pirate brought her hands up slowly to rest on the elf's knees, and then pulled herself up lightly. Her impressive bosom spilled nearly into his lap as she leaned over him for her kiss.

Isabela did not hesitate. She plunged right in, leading with her tongue. She knew exactly what to do to make his toes curl. But she was surprisingly sweet, too, soft and pliant under his hands.

When Isabela started to pull back he chased after her, his hands reaching to clasp the back of her neck.

When he could see her again, she had another kind of smile on her face that he had never seen there before.

"What do you know?" she said, pleased. "Looks like you're not made of stone after all."

He supposed not. However much he might wish to be at times.

Fenris looked between the two girls, unsure how to manage both of them at once.

Isabela's hands roamed upwards from his knees, drawing his attention down. "Sit back and relax, Sweet Thing," she told him.

He did as he was told.

"There's something I've wanted to do for you for a long, long time," Isabela said. With a decidedly predatory gaze, she reached her hands up under his shirt, the sudden contact making him hiss.

Hawke leaned her head against Fenris's shoulder, much as she had always done with Isabela. Her own arms wrapped around his left arm and held him still, there, as if he might get up and run away again at any moment and she had no intention of allowing it.

Isabela's hands with their long fingernails danced across his abdomen, making his breath catch. Then, quick as a cat she darted forward, into his lap, and pressed her mouth to his stomach.

Hawke slipped one hand over to run a hand through the pirate's hair. "Heh. You read my mind. That's exactly what I've been wanting to do."

"Not quite," she interrupted her kisses to say. "You bite." Her mouth drifted slowly down from his belly button, as her hands ran over his muscular stomach. "And I haven't even gotten started yet."

She dropped back to the floor, sliding her hands back down to his knees, suddenly the picture of decorum.

"Your turn," she told Hawke.

Hawke turned the elf's face back to her with a gentle hand at his jaw. She enjoyed kissing him. It seemed to send tiny electric shocks down her spine. When his mouth joined hers again she reached up her hands to his chest and explored, enjoying the warmth beneath her fingers. His own hands grasped her waist, squeezing lightly.

Somewhere in her awareness Hawke could tell how much effort it was costing Fenris to remain still beside her. His hands shook, a little, where they held her.

"Is it all right?" she asked him, to make sure.

She was rewarded with a rare genuine smile from him. "Much more than all right."

He was, to be precise, almost delirious with pleasure. Isabela's hands were drifting up and down his thighs in a pleasant way, but he had to avoid looking at her; the naked lust in her expression was too much to take in just then.

He stayed focused on Hawke, on her shy little kisses and her beautiful turquoise eyes. His hands on her waist could feel the heat of her body even through the velvety thickness of her clothes. She was so pleased with his efforts, which he knew were clumsy and insufficient. He avoided the sight of his own hands on those spectacular curves; they were so ugly and unworthy of her.

But she was just so... happy. Marian giggled and grinned and practically quivered with delight. It made her so much more attractive than he had even realized possible. She was radiant. So much so that despite his best intentions to _do only this and no more_, he simply could not stop touching her. Sweet Maker, she was so beautiful it was going to kill him. He was going to drown in this.

And then he became aware of Isabela's confident hands unlacing his trousers.

Already, just from the kissing, the blood had rushed to his pelvis and the tingling tightness of his erection pressed against its housing. With the very slight, teasing touches of Isabela's fingers as she worked his pants off, the overwhelming sense of need drowned out any other consideration. His protestations melted away along with his reason. There was no other thought in his head but _want_ and a much smaller but still persistent voice that endlessly ran on - _must not hurt them must not_

He grunted into Hawke's mouth when he felt warm fingers wrap around his cock. Already hard, it extended even more dramatically at her touch. But it had been so long since he had been touched that he could not stop his lyrium from flaring to life in his defense.

Hawke paused their kiss to look down at Isabela's progress, and then back into his eyes. "Go slow, darling," she cautioned the pirate.

To Fenris, she added with a smile, "We're going to take good care of you."

Which was the sort of sentiment he would hate under normal circumstances, but a strangely comforting one right now. For the first time, Marian's hand reached along his arm to touch the veins of lyrium entrapped there, and gave them loving attention. With more of her unimaginably appealing shy smile, she bent down and kissed them, tasting them tentatively with her tongue, until their angry light died down into nothing and it was merely his skin again, golden in the bright light of the library.

Meanwhile Isabela's hands gripped him, pulled him free of his trousers and held him steady there, waiting.

Hawke slid her arm around the back of Fenris's neck, forcing him to rest against her. They both looked down at Isabela's hands, at his erection standing between them. It was the only part of him besides his face that was completely unmarked by lyrium.

Isabela was at first disappointed that he was not branded there, her imagination having dwelt many times on the thought of his glowing cock. But she was glad he wasn't, after all. It might have complicated her task here.

With both Hawke and Fenris's eyes on her, she extended her tongue and licked the tip of his cock, dipping briefly into its slit.

Fenris made a strangled sound, and his head fell back against Hawke.

Isabela smiled and licked him again, her hands smoothing slickness down his shaft.

"Has no one done this for you?" she asked him.

"No," he gasped, grasping at the chair beneath him to try to steady himself. No, there had not been much interest in his pleasure, in the past. This was a new thing. "You don't have to-" he started to say.

"Shh. I want to."

He would not last long then, between the two of them. And Isabela intended him to come down her throat. So she wet her lips and took him, first the flared head, flicking it with her tongue, and then all of him, sliding down with excruciating slowness.

The sight of Isabela's face sinking down onto Fenris's cock was unbearably arousing to Hawke. And the sounds he made! She knew he was trying to contain them, but he could not help gasping and whimpering at the things Isabela could do with her tongue.

"She likes doing this," she whispered in his ear. "Isabela has fantasized about sucking your cock for a long time."

His head flung back against her again, his chest heaving.

"She must be very good. She's awfully good at going down on me, I know."

Hawke was noticing, finally, that her breath in his ear was having an effect of its own. He seemed to sigh a little every time she did it, and she suspected it wasn't (entirely) her words that were doing the trick.

Isabela was bobbing up and down, now, using her hands to grasp the base of his cock. Her palms grazed his balls and occasionally she freed one hand to cup them, massaging lightly with expert confidence.

Hawke had wanted to note every one of these motions, for future reference, since she fully intended to do the same task herself for him.

But right now she was distracted by her own discovery. Experimentally, she pressed her lips to the edge of his long elven ear, and felt a shiver run through his whole body.

Isabela stopped for a moment, chuckling. "Whatever you just did, he reeeally likes it," she informed Hawke.

"Hmmm," she said, and licked the outer ridge of his ear from lobe to tip.

His cock visibly twitched in Bela's hands, and Fenris let out a low moan. When she pulled back, he looked over at Hawke with heavy-lidded eyes, pleading with her to do it again. And down at Isabela, similarly desperate. Even a few seconds without their touch was unbearable at this point.

Isabela smiled cruelly. "Say please," she said.

"_Oro te ... placere ..._" he gasped.

"Close enough."

All at once, Hawke sucked the lobe of his ear into her mouth as Isabela swallowed him whole. Mercilessly she worked the sensitive skin with her tongue and felt him writhe in her arms. She could see Bela with her nose pressed to him, and could see her throat working to contain him. When she swallowed, he groaned helplessly, working very hard to hold still.

He must be close now. She could see his lips moving, as if in prayer, but the words were inaudible and foreign.

Hawke realized she had the power to release him, and set about it quickly. Her teeth closed around his ear in the spot that most made him squirm, and firmly bit down. It made his mouth fall open and his body arch away from the chair, thrusting finally into Isabela's waiting mouth, and she knew he was coming. She held him there in her teeth through every shudder, her arms holding him steady, as Isabela swallowed his seed.

When it was over, and they both released him, he rested against Hawke. His face was strikingly peaceful for once. She ran a hand through his white hair, as she had always wanted to do, and he did not complain.

He could not remember ever having felt so good.


	14. Chapter 14

In The Hanged Man, Fenris braced himself against the bar and took a long swallow of something that was probably ordinarily used to strip paint from the walls and burned all the way down. He coughed once, drank down the rest, and asked for another.

He would have preferred one of his fine Tevinter wines, but those supplies would not last forever, and he was not looking to relax tonight. Fenris needed something to shut down the thinking part of his brain for a little while. The second glass seemed to do the trick, already blurring and dulling the reflexes of his normally-sharp mind.

The debate Fenris was having with himself was really only for show. He had already made his decision some time ago. After what had occurred last night, in Hawke's manor, there was really no turning back.

He only needed to justify it to himself, to make it not seem such a terrible mistake.

He had not intended to become beholden to another, not ever. That aim was probably broken the day he had fallen into Hawke's band of adventurers. Since then he had done a great many things he had sworn never to do, including tolerating the presence of mages and the use of magic upon his person.

It had happened slowly, without his notice, that he had come to belong to this group and to let them command him. To let _her_ command him. He was not so bothered about that fact. But it did worry him that he was not bothered. What had happened to his desire for independence, for absolute freedom?

He had sworn himself never again to be used against his will. But here he was, at their beck and call. How ever long he had held out against their enticements, the result was the same.

He did not fear now that they would misuse him. They were not mages. Their affection for one another was sweet and good. Even he could recognize that, even if he'd never seen its like before.

And he did not fear so much that he would abuse them. Had he not resisted their considerable charms, even when they were vulnerable and naked before them? Surely he could control himself. What's more, there were two of them, and they were formidable women. They could protect each other, if needs be.

So if Hawke and Isabela wished to use him for their pleasure, he would allow it. It was not against his consent if he was, in the end, willing. And eager. Was it still bondage if he was eager for it?

This kind of thinking was making his head hurt.

In this case he had chosen his taskmasters. That, at least, was a choice - wasn't it?

He liked them, after all. Very much so.

The alcohol was not helping. It only tangled his thoughts into a confusing snarl.

The elf sighed and shook his head. Normal people did not seem to be so troubled with such things. They fell into and out of liaisons with each other with such casualness! Tears and awkwardness may come up at the end, but they seemed to emerge none the worse for wear.

But he was not a normal person, and likely never would be. Never could he be so casual in his affections, or in their loss. Fenris held tightly to what little he had.

To come to care for someone and then to lose them - some instinct told him that such a loss would destroy him.

The opposite bind had proven true as well. He had once hoped that perhaps he could live without intimate company, and forget entirely about the needs of the flesh. Like the Starkhaven princeling did, with his vows of chastity. What an utter failure that had been! Even before the girls had begun their seduction he had burned for them, steadily and without relief.

It would not be possible for him to go on alone forever, he knew it now. Not without loneliness and longing, feelings he had not even recognized as his until Isabela and Hawke had offered to relieve him of them. Now that he knew these for what they were, they seemed an impossibly heavy burden.

Fenris abandoned the bar and stepped outside, leaning against the wall of the Hanged Man and watching his own breath cloud the night air. The alcohol had steadied his nerves and warmed his chest, but had done nothing to help him forget his troubles.

How much easier it would have been for him if he could forget. Forget everything that happened in Tevinter, and the foulness that had been planted in him there. But after losing everything once he could not resist clinging hard to every memory, no matter how painful.

He could only hope that he did not inflict this pollution inside him on the couple, sweet Hawke and sly Isabela. He wondered if perhaps he should warn them of it. But if that were a requirement, he would not even entertain a notion of this liaison. He would never speak of his shameful past to anyone, would cut his own throat first.

He would simply have to manage it. If it could not be managed, he would remove himself from their company, whatever the cost to himself.

No less anxious, but more resolute, Fenris walked back into the Hanged Man and proceeded into the hallway that lead to Isabela's room.

They were, as they had always been, waiting for him.

But not idly, of course.

He could hear murmurs and laughter from beyond the door. Unimagined delights waited for him here, if he could only enjoy them.

If his presence did not naturally despoil their beauty.

In the library, the night before, he had taken a risk in offering himself to them. It had been... wonderful. All of his doubts had dissolved under their touch. But perhaps it was too good to be true. His burdens had returned in full force afterwards, after all.

In the end, he had to trust that they knew what they were doing.

Fenris opened the door quietly, not wanting to interrupt.

Hawke and Isabela were fully engaged with each other on Isabela's serviceable bed. The both of them were utterly naked. The smaller, fairer woman lay atop the voluptuous Rivaini with her head nodding between her legs. Her position was reversed so that the woman beneath her could return the favor.

Fenris entered the room as quietly as he could, his eyes widening at the sight. They were endlessly fascinating to him, the way they took their pleasure without demand or punishment. Each woman was so bewitching, and in each other's presence their beauty was magnified tenfold, as if by magic.

Isabela spotted him, of course. She met his eye without pausing her clever tongue between her lover's legs, and winked at him.

That look, playful and pleased to see him, had an intoxicating effect much stronger than his drink at the bar. It made him a co-conspirator in their pleasure, a sense that would gradually banish his discomfort.

In command as always, Isabela reached out a hand to Fenris, gesturing him closer. Her intentions, as usual, were very clear, even if her reasons were not. She wanted him to join them, fully this time. To reveal himself as they had revealed themselves to him.

Fenris was still reluctant to so reveal himself. He was certain that he did not have within him the things they wanted.

But whatever he did have, it was theirs. Completely theirs.

Author's note: one more installment. Full-on H/I/F pr0n. For real this time.


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's note: hello, and welcome to the porn. _

_This is the last installment of this particular story. I'd like to do more genfic with these three sometime. It might be awhile though._

_Hope you enjoyed!_

He set aside his weapon. One at a time he removed his metal gauntlets, rubbing at his wrists and contemplating the sight before him like a delicious banquet that he could still not believe he was permitted to attend. Then, he removed the metal chestplate, leaving him dressed entirely in black, with a thin shirt and trousers. For the moment, he would not undress himself further.

With her eyes, Isabela arranged him exactly where she wanted him - at the end of the bed, where Isabela's head lay and where Hawke's backside waited. At her direction, and from his natural sense of reserve, he did not announce his presence.

Hawke did not seem to notice the shift in weight on the bed, but she certainly noticed the extra hand on her back. It was larger and heavier than usual_... that wasn't Isabela's hand.__  
_  
She stopped everything she was doing for her partner and looked over her shoulder, eyes widening. There he was. Fenris. Exactly as in her fantasies. (Well, with more clothes.)

"Is it all right?" he asked, his hand steady at her back.

A huge, sunny smile stole across her face. "Much more than all right," she answered.

She started to rise up, but he stopped her. "Don't move," he requested quietly.

The dulcimer of his voice, which Marian had always enjoyed, now sent an anticipatory thrill up her spine. This was really going to happen. Adrenaline pounded through her at the thought. She remained crouched over Isabela, looking down her long tawny legs as Fenris touched her.

Now there were two unfamiliar hands, both caressing up and down her back with light pressure, leisurely, as though memorizing her body for future reference. He reached up to trace her shoulder blades, and dragged his thumbs lightly down her spine. Slowly he smoothed them down over her waist and around her hips, finally starting to squeeze.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured.

With both hands gripping the supple flesh of her backside, Fenris leaned over and tasted her skin, kissing down her back. She sighed at the touch of his lips.

Gradually his kisses grew bolder, and he gripped her tighter. His hands traveled up her back and dragged fingernails back down, light at first, then harder. His teeth found a place in the small of Hawke's back that made her squeal. He did it again and again. Just touching her was such a pleasure, and hearing her respond to his touch thrilled him every time.

Isabela encouraged Fenris on with her hands, sliding up his legs promisingly. "You learn fast," she observed at Hawke's delighted squeals.

The elf arranged himself between Hawke's legs, and, grasping her hips, slowly brought her up to her hands and knees. Which forced her to abandon Isabela for now.

Bela's long fingernails trailed up and down Hawke's thighs, which were faintly quivering. She soothed away the younger woman's nerves with an ease that was almost magical. The pirate's touch never failed to fill Marian with confidence and serenity. It was the only time she felt truly beautiful. This gift was one the Rivanni had with nearly everyone, this blessing of assurance, the ability to make people more themselves.

"Don't worry, kitten," she heard Isabela say beneath her. "You have first dibs on him, remember? And I like this vantage point. I'm going to watch him take you."

Fenris' hands left her for now, reluctantly, to attend to his trousers. If he had not already been hard, the sight of Marian on all fours before him would have done the trick immediately. As it was, with unlimited access to Hawke's fantastic heart-shaped arse, which he had envisioned naked before him _so many times_, his excitement was right on the edge of hysteria. His fingers trembled at his laces.

Isabela stepped in, somehow managing from below both of them to reach up and unlace the knots, upside-down, with her talented fingers. His hands settled gratefully over hers as she did her work.

_And this is why I don't wear pants,_ the pirate smiled to herself. _I wonder if we can get Fenris into one of Sebastian's kilts? So much more convenient. Mmm, I bet his legs look amazing. Let's have a look._

Fenris plainly intended only to open his trousers, but she had other ideas.

"Off," the pirate demanded, tugging down on them.

"Bela," Hawke cautioned her when Fenris went quiet. She didn't want anything to ruin this night.

"I suppose it's only fair," he mumbled. He stood up and quickly yanked down his trousers, along with his smallclothes.

Isabela got only a glimpse of him before he was already repositioning on the bed. She saw truly magnificent muscular thighs moving into readiness only inches from her head, and shivered with delight. She traced them lightly with the tips of her fingers, fascinated; they were as hard and as firm as armor, with only a few lyrium lines spidering down.

Hawke stared down at Isabela's familiar form, waiting for him to be ready. Now, there, she could feel the tip of him pressing to her entrance. He felt large. She could remember from when Isabela was pleasuring him the thickness of his cock going in and out of her mouth- at this her jaw fell open slightly and she let out a soft _oh_. Her body was humming with readiness for him.

But first, a careful finger, exploring attentively. He touched inside her with less confidence than Isabela (who was remarkable with her hands). She tried to back against it with a low whine, demanding more, but he held her fast with his other hand. The strength of his hand gripping her waist made her breathe even faster.

"More," she urged him.

_dear Maker_, Fenris thought wildly, feeling inside her. _so wet. so soft and so wet. I have to.. I need..._

It was so urgent and so overwhelming that he could wait no longer. Rapidly he withdrew and positioned once again. He needed only a little pressure to slide inside her, a short push and the flared tip of him was through, making them both gasp.

From below, Isabela felt Hawke tense all through her body, pulled tight like a bowstring about to snap.

Fenris could feel it too, where his hands gripped her. He held himself perfectly still, clenching his jaw, resisting every instinct that was screaming at him to plunge, until she began to relax.

Slowly, very slowly he pushed further, and she could feel more and more of him, until it seemed that this was the only thing in the world, his cock inside her. It was so thick and strong. His hands holding her were the only other thing she could feel.

Fenris stopped and held still again, all the way in now, drawing deep breaths. She was so sweet inside, and so warm. Everything else was falling away, all of his fears and torments. Later, after tonight, he would remember vividly how he had once learned this self-control. But now there was only bliss.

Isabela's crafty hands were snaking between both of their legs, reaching up to unexpectedly grasp his balls and stroke the sensitive skin behind them.

The unexpected source of pleasure drew a groan from the elf, and a temporary loss of control. Helplessly he thrust all the way in and out, twice, before regaining command of himself.

Hawke cried out in mindless ecstasy at his thrusts, each one setting every nerve ablaze. When he withdrew, she moaned her disappointment. "Yes yes do that again," she begged him, her hands clenching at the bed.

"I just... need a moment to... collect myself..." he told her.

Isabela chuckled to herself.

"Don't help," he scolded her, but not seriously. "Or you won't get your turn."

Grabbing Hawke again around her waist, he plunged fully inside and held in place, relishing her response. In between her gasps and cries, she pleaded for more. He pulled out very slowly, resolute in his restraint, before plunging back in.

Her cries escalated with every plunge, and her pleading was reduced to the words "yes" and "more". Her shameless begging drove his pace to quicken, and he began pounding into her mercilessly. He could feel it surging up within him, the fire that did not burn, building up so strongly it was unnerving. He felt he could crack in two, under the immense pressure.

Isabela judged the right moment to intervene. She could not lift her head without interfering with his thrusts, but her hands were free, and she knew exactly where to touch her Hawke.

With a few deft caresses of the sensitive skin between Marian's legs, she could feel her lover snap to new attention. When she established a rhythm, stroking her nub, the combination of her fingers and the elf's powerful thrusts brought Marian over the edge and screaming her pleasure.

Inside she blazed suddenly, and throbbed all around his cock. Fenris whimpered as he only just resisted joining her, enduring the exquisite torture as long as he could before pulling out and watching Marian collapse onto the bed.

Isabela sat up and leaned over her, stroking her hair. "How was it, kitten? Good?"

Fenris couldn't hear her reply, but he saw a very large smile and imagined that he had done well. He laid himself down to rest a moment, listening to their contented murmurings.

He didn't get long to relax.

Isabela was mounting him now, straddling his hips and taking his hands. She introduced them to her body, guided them over her thighs, around her waist, and up to her breasts. With reverence he caressed her body, pressed against it, and cherished the gift he was being given.

From above she felt him up and down, how solid he was, how every part of him was toned and firm. Even his stomach was muscular. The lyrium, when not alit, only accentuated his musculature. But she could feel it there in his skin, slightly raised, like scars.

She pushed his shirt up to see more of him, sliding her hands up and under it to stroke the muscles of his chest, and he finally pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.

The tattoos on his chest were extensive, a lattice of thready white lines converging just over his heart. He glared at her sternly for a moment, as though daring her to make fun, or be repulsed.

Instead of examining them further Isabela laid down upon him fully, pressing the full length of herself against him as she drew in for a kiss.

There was the immediate benefit of going shirtless - to feel her all against him with nothing to get in the way. It was an incredible sensation.

She tasted the alcohol on his mouth immediately, could even tell that Corff had given him the cheap stuff. She would have to have a word with the bartender about that.

The rest of her thoughts slipped away as the kiss deepened and his arms clasped around her back. Normally she liked to get straight to the main event, but it was so remarkably pleasant just to lie here and kiss him that she wouldn't mind doing it for the rest of the night.

Hawke slid down and laid next to them as they kissed. It was strange, seeing Isabela kissing someone else. But she didn't mind as long as it was Fenris. Seeing the two of them together produced a warm glow in her chest. They were so beautiful. And it was good to see them enjoy each other.

Isabela was at least a few inches taller than Fenris, and heavier as well, but he could still lift her easily and had no trouble rolling her over without breaking their kiss. It put a little thrill in the pirate's belly to be manhandled. _Oh, this is promising. I'll just have to convince you I'm not breakable. Then we can have some real fun._

With a flash of the salty smile she found so attractive, Fenris pulled away from their kiss and slid down to explore. He kissed all along her neck, across her collarbone, leaving a trail of fire all down her chest. He reached her breasts and brought his lips to the soft skin between them, cupping each breast carefully. He looked a little awestruck at the sight of them, to finally be touching her like this.

She made a pleased sort of growl at him that was meant to encourage. "Feel free to squeeze," she purred. "I like a little pressure."

His hands were a lot more used to striking and tearing than caressing, but he did his best. Reminding himself he was no longer wearing claws, he stroked the outer curve of each breast, feeling their shape, teasing the smooth skin. Periodically he would squeeze her lightly and press her breasts together, planting kisses all around them. Her impatient murmurs only made him go slower, smirking.

Hawke giggled beside them. "Revenge is sweet, isn't it?"

"Shush," Isabela smiled at her.

Hawke lazily reached over to caress her bare arm up and down. "She's waiting for you to use your mouth," she informed the elf. "She goes crazy for that."

"I had guessed," he said. He had been eyeing her dark nipples hungrily all along. He finally brought his lips to one, brushing lightly, and felt her squirm. Cupping a breast with both hands gently, he drew one perfect nipple into his mouth and lathed it with his tongue. She made an urgent, throaty moan at that, writhing against him.

Such a sound could surely bring the city to its knees before her; he wanted nothing more than to hear it again. He descended again, grasping and suckling at her breast, and answered her next moan with a similar sound deep in his chest.

Then Hawke was there, her hand on his shoulder and her eyebrow raised. _May I?_ With his answering smile, she set upon the Rivaini's other breast, running her tongue in expert circles around the nipple.

Under the combined attentions of a lover at each breast, Isabela groaned a surrender. His hot mouth and her strong tongue, differently wonderful sensations, pushed her over the edge. Her body twisted under them, her hands reaching up to caress them both until the pleasure took her away and she cried out loudly, convulsing, her pelvis bucking untouched against the bed.

Hawke and Fenris exchanged a pleased look, a little proud of themselves for surprising the more experienced Isabela. Hawke gave him a quick, celebratory kiss and retreated, grinning.

"I don't think you're done yet, if I know my Bela."

Fenris bent down to kiss Isabela, still pinned beneath him. She drew him in fiercely, holding his head to hers and teasing him promisingly with her tongue. Her hips rolled against him insistently.

He parted from her for just a few seconds to ask "do you want to...?"

She laughed and kissed him harder, and that was answer enough. He reached between them to prepare himself, and she pushed at him insistently.

"On your back," she said.

He obliged her, and she mounted him again. Her breasts glimmered slightly, covered with the sweat and saliva of their attentions, hovering just out of his reach. Watching her climbing atop him with a fierce expression, he came fully erect once again, eager to be inside her.

Isabela grasped him with one hand and touched herself with the other, her strong brown thighs holding her above his hips. Her fingers plunged into her own cunt and came out slick, rubbing her juices onto him, making him groan with need. Then she lowered herself onto his cock.

She rocked with him in her, a dreamy smile upon her face.

It should have been easier for him, with her doing all the work, but he had to fight himself constantly not to finish. With the magnificent sight of her beautiful, undulating body driving him nearly to madness, he had to close his eyes to hold out beneath her. With the thrilling rolls of her hips, her breasts swaying over him, and her head thrown back in pleasure, she looked like a goddess.

Unable to resist, Hawke started touching her too, cupping her breasts and kissing her neck. Clearly they were trying to break him. He drove his nails into the palms of his hands, the pain a focus to keep his orgasm at bay.

Isabela's smooth rhythm finally faltered, stuttering and stiffening into a final pose. Her mouth dropped open soundlessly, full of words she could never say. Her back arched into Hawke, who pinched relentlessly at her nipples to drive her even higher. Sensing his cue, Fenris thrust wildly up into her and drew an anguished cry as the pirate came a second time, shuddering all around him.

Then Hawke was dragging her off and cuddling her next to him, whispering loving words of her own into her ear. Not possessive, just affectionate and giddy.

The night had proved even more thrilling than Hawke had expected. Watching Isabela riding Fenris was a spectacular sight, one she hoped to see a lot of, she decided.

Her tenderness extended to both of them in a way she had not anticipated. She had a feeling she would not mind sharing Isabela with Fenris, and her own pleasure with the elf had been considerable. But her affection for him had grown as well, revealing deeper feelings than she had realized. He was dear to her. She wanted to give him more. She wanted him to stay. She wanted to have both of them, all three together, complete in a new way.

Fenris was too distracted to notice Hawke studying him thoughtfully. His restraint had stretched about as far as it would go, and now the need was too great. His erection was getting painful now, and he could think of nothing else. He wondered if he should excuse himself while the girls rested.

But Marian was grabbing at his hands insistently, guiding them back to her. "Your turn now," she said. "I want you to finish inside me. If Bela's all right with that..."

Isabela looked drowsily over at them. "Ooh - try it on your back this time. I bet it would bring you over again too."

He just stared back at them, startled. _They would allow him...?_

He didn't have time to consider it; Marian was settling on her back and gently pulling him to her, hooking her legs around his waist. The tenderness in her expression banished every other thought from his head. He forgot all at once to ask her if she was sure. Did she really want his seed inside her? No one had wanted this before.

_Oh, Maker._ He was kissing her, and she was pressing against him, still slick between her legs. Her lithe little body writhed beneath him and he was entering her and she was calling his name, clinging to him.

It had been intensely pleasurable before, but he had been staving off the pleasure in order to maintain control and serve them as long as possible. But this time, as he sank into her, it was _for him_. It was immediately overwhelming. Not just the sensation, her softness and heat and unbelievable sweetness, but the powerful surge of his own response.

He plunged into her again and again, faster and faster, and he started babbling breathlessly. Words in Tevinter, pleading and swears and endearments and finally just her name, over and over.

Marian. Oh, Marian.

He had never been permitted to -

His orgasm overtook him then. Blinding, all-consuming, mindless pleasure. A wordless shout involuntarily burst out as he emptied into her. It seemed to go on forever; her small touches at the back of his neck only drove him on until it seemed there should be nothing left.

He lost himself. He wasn't a man or a slave or a fugitive or an elf even. He was nobody. He was just sensation and feeling.

His world tipped over, and for a moment he knew nothing.

It took some time for his mind to put itself back together, and find him collapsed in Marian's arms. She was lazily stroking the back of his head, smiling warmly. He was still inside her, his seed drying on her thighs.

It was so jarring for him, falling apart and coming back together like this. Losing himself was the thing he most feared. A fragile peace between his mind and body had broken.

"Fenris," he heard her say fondly, sounding far away. "Dear Fenris. Our knight."

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, the color of untroubled waters. Was that who he was, after all? Their knight-errant?

He pulled away from her, rolling onto his back. His body seemed to have turned to jelly; he could not think of moving again right now. It was good to lie still. Good.

Isabela was out of bed, moving around nearby. "I have a blanket somewhere," she said.

Marian actually cuddled up to him, the way she had in the library, wrapping herself around his body. She drew her face close to his, and whispered, "was I all right?"

He could only blink back at her. The question was incomprehensible.

Her smile was shy now, a little sheepish. "I've never had a man before. I should have told you before, but I didn't want you to worry... I hope it was good for you..?"

And now he was just a man, wanting to reassure his lover. Fenris touched her face lightly, and told her sincerely: "You were wonderful."

And then Isabela was there too, on his other arm and drawing a blanket over them all. Isabela kissed his cheek and draped herself across him, caressing Hawke's arm. The women's eyes met, and confirmed their mutual satisfaction. It had been everything they wanted, and more.

Fenris quickly grew drowsy. His disquiet did not disappear, but it faded somewhat. Having an incredible woman on each arm was a successful distraction, and it had been so long since he had taken his pleasure that sleep was already overtaking him.

Later he would dwell on everything that was wrong with this picture, but at that moment he could not help thinking the Maker had for once been kind to him. In the face of that, he could hardly complain.

Hawke grew sleepy as well. She looked lovingly at her pirate and her knight. She fantasized, now, that she would be able to keep them both like this. She must be always cautious with them, because they were each in their own way so wary and at any moment could evaporate into the air like vapor. But she would try. She would take whatever they gave her and be so glad for it.

Before long two of the three were asleep.

Isabela watched the two of them sleeping in her bed, Hawke deeply and sweetly, secure at last with someone who would not leave her to sleep alone, and Fenris with all the lines of worry and care gone from his face. She smiled.

She knew, as she had known all along, that they would be happy together.

Then she got out of bed, quietly got dressed, and went back to the bar for a drink, leaving Hawke and Fenris entwined in each other's arms.

*  
end


End file.
